


Now mark me, how I will undo myself

by MostFacinorous



Series: I Know No I [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Eating Disorders, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Loss of Powers, Physical Therapy, Rehabilitation, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Therapy, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-18 10:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 68,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous
Summary: When this series was originally posted, it was as a single story. In breaking it up, I stood to lose many good conversations that were had in the comments, and I decided that was an unacceptable loss.Below you will find the original comments preserved in text form. These are not required reading for the story, so if you aren't someone who likes to read the whole comments section, please feel free to skip to the next work in the series.And to those who commented the first time around: Thank you all. It's been a joy revisiting your words!





	1. One

“He's not a _stray puppy_ , Rogers. You cannot just tell me you promise to clean up after him, and expect that to be that. He killed hundreds of people, started us on the path to not _one_ , but probably _all_ of the intergalactic wars this planet will ever face, and you want to play One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest with him?” Fury was glaring from his one good eye out over the tented fingers of both of his hands.

“Sorry, I… don’t understand that reference.” Steve felt himself flushing, both annoyed with the tone and the argument, and embarrassed about being once again on the outside of regular pop culture.

“Point is, Cap, one, he’s dangerous, and two, why should we put him up in some cushy padded cell? We have a chance here to make a point that will be heard across the skies: You don’t mess with Earth.” He expected that argument from Natasha, not Tony.

“He’s not dangerous. He’s no stronger than you without a suit-- probably less so, since he’s just a prince, no workshop muscles. He’s got no power of his own, he didn’t even have enough to heal without the help from that bit of metal we pulled out of him.”

Bruce grumbled a bit about not having had the opportunity to examine it in the background, but Steve ignored it.

“And he’s… you’ve read my report. You could see some of what he’s been through. Does any of that sound like justice to you? And, if we’re just the third world to beat up on the ex bully, what kind of statement are we really making? ‘We needed the big kids to rough him up first’? Besides, who’s going to hear about it or care? Asgard certainly doesn’t seem to, and that’s our main and closest contact.”

“So you think the best thing for him, for Earth, for us, is to put him in a mental rehabilitation clinic?” Natasha spoke evenly and quietly, but with total control.

“Yeah. I do.” He squared his jaw. “I think he’s just as lost as he seems, and probably more than that. Yeah, he’s not truthful. But what he is hiding… I think there’s more to it than just more evil.”

“So you’re saying you actually believe what he’s fed you?” Tony sounded exasperated, like he did every time he accused Steve of being too soft, too much of a bleeding heart.

“I still hear him screaming in my sleep sometimes.” Clint said. He was drawing with the moisture his water glass had left on the high polished black table, not meeting anyone’s eyes. His words were just as quiet as Natasha’s, but with none of the control. It was a statement, not a complaint, and when the silence that was the group’s reaction to that stretched on, he looked up.  
“I don’t trust him, and I have less reason than most to believe him. But the things I saw done to him… sounds like what he said, and worse. We just kill bad guys. This… killing him would have been nicer. Might still be.” Clint was good at being serious, but that was grim, even for him.

Steve turned back to face Fury, one brow raised in challenge.  
“I can’t back down on this one, and I think you know you shouldn’t ask me to. Bucky’s getting better slowly but surely, and most of his trauma now is mental. Besides, if you lock Loki up, he won’t make a full recovery. He needs physical therapy, he needs people who will keep an eye on him. If you were ever going to make a show of him, save it. Show him off when he’s walking, the perfect example of an about face, the good that we can do… how strong kindness can be.” Steve was reaching now, stretching into areas he knew Fury thought were soft, and he needed to reel it back in. “I know it goes against all of your training, Sir, but I’d like to remind you who you were serving, then.”

Fury pursed his lips and sighed, then pushed up on the table and stood, his fist flat against the surface as he made his decision.

“If you aren’t training or running missions, I want you at that rehab. If he hurts one nurse, if we see one green spark, I’m gonna send his ass miles under the ground, and no one is ever going to hear the name Loki ever again. We clear?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, but still snapped a salute.  
“Perfectly, Sir.”

“The rest of you? I expect visitations. I want second opinions, I want write ups. Loki doesn’t sneeze in your presence without me hearing about it. Is THAT clear?”  
“Ah, Nick,” Tony started in, “Hate to be the dissenter in the crew, but what are we hoping to gain from this? Either he’s playing us, and we won’t know until we’re standing neck deep in rubble, telling Spangles I told you so-- or he’s been neutralized, and we aren’t going to get anything from him anyway.”

“Asgard left him alive, I want to know why. Plus, we only get Thor sometimes, sounds like Loki is gonna be a permanent resident. Get him talking, learn all you can about as many worlds as he’s been to. We may not be ready for travel, but thanks to him, we have to be ready to fight anything that thinks we’re gonna lay down and play ant for them.”

“At some point, I’m going to want to go back to Asgard, too, Sir.” Steve clenched his hands, knuckles going bright white. “I know what they did now, according to Loki, but not why. And something just isn’t clicking yet.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, soldier. For now, you get your way. I want you in the transport when he’s moved, and if anything goes wrong, I am holding you personally responsible.” Fury pointed at him, his threat blatant. “Dismissed.” He finished, and the Avengers moved to the door.

Natasha shoulder checked him on the way out.  
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” She murmured.

“Yeah.” He said to her retreating back, “Me too.”

 

***

  
“Everyone working in the home has been cleared by S.H.I.E.L.D. and none of them are going to tell anyone that you’re there. You’ll be safe, and secure, and no one from the outside is going to bother you, save myself and the other Avengers. At first it’ll be a little bit… secluded, until you’ve been evaluated, and they feel comfortable letting you be around the other patients,” The Captain told him, sitting beside him the back of a black windowed SUV. They were driving through the city, Loki restrained despite Rogers’s protests, the wheeled seat they had been transporting him in folded up behind their seats, and it seemed the good Captain was more worried about this change than Loki was.

He’d watched as the buildings around them shrank and then faded from view, and green overtook the drab grays out the windows. It was no short jaunt, this trip, and he would have loved to have just enough power to take them there in the spare moments it would require of him, rather than this tedium. At least the roads here were smoother than those of other places he’d been in cars before. 

He found his eyes turning from the scenery to observe The Captain, who was still so tense, in comparison to himself. Then again, Loki at least knew Rogers wasn’t going to attempt to be violent. The Captain had no such guarantees. 

He wouldn't be, of course, maybe because part of him didn’t care. These people had become so enamored with their merciful ideals, it would be considered wrong to punish him. Or that was what Captain America was making him believe. There would always be those driven by things more base, more animal. The need for revenge is a strong one, and he would be unsurprised if his death ultimately came at the hands of some nothing Midgardian, moved to action by his loyalty to his realm.

He’d read enough lore to know that that was all too often how stories like his own tended to end. With a whimper, in secret and silence, without fanfare.

For now, though, he was going to be allowed the time he needed to heal, to grow to understand this new, weaker form. He looked out the window as they drove, unsure when he’d next have the chance to be this close to the world at large.  
“I am sure it will be fine. I needn’t remind you that I am accustomed to far worse.”

Rogers went silent for a long moment before speaking softly.  
“I’m doing the best I can for you, Loki. I know everything is difficult for you now, but I’m hoping things will get better. You just have to be willing to work with us to make it happen.”

“I am not unwilling, nor ungrateful.” Loki said firmly. “Truly.”

They pulled at last into the drive, the wheels rattling as they transitioned from the smooth asphalt to the bricks that paved the way up to the house.  
And it was a house, an old manor house, by the looks of it, converted for this use some time ago-- long enough at least to have added a very modern looking sunroom with green tinted windows. Loki realized that, like the windows on the car, those inside would be able to see out, but no one could see in.

As he was lifted out of the car and pushed into a wheelchair by the three attendants, he felt eyes on him. And not just Rogers’. He wondered if it wasn’t Rogers’s friend-not-friend, watching them.

The thought left his mind when he was wheeled up the ramp that circumnavigated the stairs into the foyer.  
He sat as straight as he could, despite the relative weakness of the muscles in his side, and tried to hold his head high, though he knew that at the very least some of the people inside would be happy to see him so lowered.

They did not stop when they reached the registration desk. It seemed everyone knew he would be coming. Instead, the woman behind the glass pressed a button, unlocking the door with a loud buzz and a wave that they should proceed.

He didn’t get much of a chance to look around, at the brisk rate he was being pushed to his next holding cell. Not that he suspected there would be much to see. A few times he did make out faces pressed to glass, gawping like fish in a pond. He kept his eyes forward and his head high. Give those who look something to see. He pressed a small smirk onto his face. Let them wonder.

“This is it,” He heard the Captain say from behind him. He was abruptly pulled up to a stop, jarring him in his chair, and he licked his lips, worrying the pinhole scars that stood out there.

One of his handlers opened the door, and he was wheeled in.

It wasn’t a hospital room, he would say that much for it. There was a desk, upon which a small bookshelf sat, sparsely populated. Paper and colorful wax sticks sat in a basket, neatly organized, on the desk’s surface, and on the wall was a mounted screen, a television. It was blessedly devoid of blinking and bleeping machines, though grating in the wall and ceiling suggested the possibility of faceless commands being called out to him at some point in the future.  
There was a bed, of course, and an attached bathroom. And everything was in beiges, blues, and grays. No more sterile white, and Loki thought he may weep for joy with just that improvement.

“Can you think of anything you need, right off the bat?” Rogers asked.

“You mean aside from the remainder of my immortal years, my powers, my fully functioning body…?”  
He registered the flash of resignation that settled, however briefly, on The Captain’s face, and quickly tried to amend it.  
“Given my quarters up until this point, Captain, this is positively luxurious. Thank you.” He mustered as much sincerity as he could.

Rogers smiled, relieved.  
“I’m going to go talk to the people who run this place, and then I have to head back to New York, okay? I’ll be back to visit as soon as I can. Just go ahead and get settled in, let the staff get used to you and used to the fact that you aren’t going to um.” He waved his hands around, clearly lacking the words.

“Ensorcell them? Grind them beneath my feet? Little enough chance of that, Captain. You need not concern yourself. I will look forward to our little talks, though.” He made sure to turn away, dismissing The Captain despite the rising wave of emotion in his chest.

It had been a long drive north. How often, exactly, would Rogers want to make that trip?

He waited until Rogers and the orderlies were gone, then began attempting to study the room. His first impulse was to stand to do so, but his legs were not ready for that just yet. He reached out and grasped the blankets of the bed, using them to drag himself and the chair closer to it.

By the time he had made his way around the edge of the bed, his arms ached and he was exhausted.

He sat back in his seat and considered what that meant; how long he would have to be here for recovery. He wasn’t used to the healing times of humans, couldn’t calculate. It felt like having no end in sight, and it made him anxious.

He focused on calming himself, sitting as still as he could and taking deep breaths while letting his mind be as empty as possible.  
He was still meditating when the orderly brought him his evening meal, and he engaged with the woman as little as possible. For all he knew Amy was a perfectly lovely girl… but he was busy trying not to panic about being alone, somewhere far removed from all he knew. It felt like being in his cell in Asgard all over again, only this time there was no Frigga to help him keep his sanity.

Two of them came back and tucked him into his bed, leaving the chair beside it. He didn’t look at them, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the door that they had left open behind them, which lay open as if mocking him.

Through it, though, he saw someone else in a wheelchair, moving with ease, without being pushed. Using her arms to pull on the upper rims of the wheel, propelling herself forward. And he felt like an idiot for not having thought of it himself.

He spent the next day practicing.

On the third day of his residence, his third day with only the occasional company of caregivers making their rounds, he had settled into an understanding of his schedule. He'd learned quickly enough to operate his chair, using his arms to move himself around the small area. His side didn't hurt when he did so, but he felt weak, and had to pause often.

He tried a few times to rise, but each attempt was short lived and resulted in his ending up back in the chair, or on one memorable occasion, flopping ungracefully onto the bed and having to nudge the chair into position with his arms and legs.

If he allowed himself to dwell on it, he was sure he would be flustered at the likelihood that some of the agents here were spying on him, and had seen his mishap.

He read through the books, dull stories of Midgardian times gone by, and used the crayons to sketch out rough shapes, intentionally not of anything in particular. He filled a page with as intricate of details as he could manage, until it seemed he had drawn nothing more than a maze comprised of calligraphic ornamentation.

The tedium suddenly broke, though, when two of the orderlies rapped on his door and came in with hardly a pause.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” He asked politely, though he was well aware that he had very little option one way or another. Still, just their presence made him uneasy. What if they were operating outside of their orders, angry about his attempts on their world, and had come to kill him?

“We're going to take you to your assessment meeting now.” One explained, while the other leaned down and cuffed one of Loki's legs to his chair's stirrups.

“I see.” Was all he said, allowing them to do what they needed without a fuss. He was curious, really, he told himself, and besides-- what was the worst they could do to him?

Once he had been secured to their satisfaction, he was taken out of his room and wheeled back down the hallway he'd been brought there by.

They turned shortly before the reception area, and knocked-- much more respectfully, he noticed-- on a door with a name plaque beside it. Dr. Talia Rivera, it read.

A few moments later, the door swung open as the doctor greeted them. Loki took in as much information as he could from her appearance-- clean, neat. Very professionally composed. Early thirties, perhaps, her dark hair pulled back away from her smiling face as she greeted her most recent patient with a simple, "Hello, please come in."  
She stepped aside, leaving the door open for the orderlies to move him in after her.

The room was wide and spacious, a row of windows facing out and bathing the interior in warm light. An elegant mahogany desk sat off to the right, a set of comfortable chairs and a couch to the right, though one of the chairs seemed to have been moved out of place to open up room.

"I do hope your stay here has been at least somewhat comfortable so far?" she remarked, tone smooth and warm as she strode towards the sitting area and waited for the orderlies and Loki to follow suit. The orderlies pushed him to sit across from her and he felt his wheel being locked into place with the casual flick of a foot.

“In light of recent accommodations that I've been privy to, this is... sufficient.” He informed her with an almost brittle reign on his sarcasm, trying to keep himself as bland as possible until he understood the role he was meant to be playing, here.

He tried to gauge what sort of woman she was. She had wide lips that seemed inclined to smiling, if the lines by the sides of her mouth and at the corners of her eyes were anything to go by. She wasn't old enough for them to have developed fully into wrinkles, but they were there just the same. Should he appeal to her with his wit and humor?  
He felt wrung dry of it just at the moment, so he hoped not.

Her brows, though, were singularly expressive, just from what he had seen of her so far. Perhaps they could be used as a tell for the emotions under her words. He made note to be aware of them.

“So what, if I may ask, is the intent of today's meeting?” He stalwartly ignored the men who had brought him here, unsure if they would be staying for her safety, or if their hovering was for some other reason.

“We like to ensure that each patient feels sufficiently comfortable within our facilities and among the other patients. I was hoping we could simply… talk,” she replied as she seated herself, before glancing up at the orderlies for a beat of consideration. “Thank you, gentlemen,” she added in dismissal after a moment.

Loki was sure the house was equipped with security enough to bring assistance pouring in if he so much as breathed at her threateningly. But this suited him fine just the same; less people for him to perform for.

“Mm.” he hummed. “And I suppose you've a checklist of subjects you'd like to cover? Motivation, intent... abilities?” He leaned back in his chair and turned his head to watch the men leave. “I am perfectly harmless at present, I assure you.” He added, feigning wide eyed innocence.

"Well certainly that's of interest to us, but why discuss what can be easily confirmed with a look at your file?" Her smile didn't waver. "I'm more interested in your ability to form and maintain interpersonal relationships, to be honest. But you don't seem to have many of those."

He held his mild expression in place, but internally his hackles raised.  
“I can't imagine what you mean. I have a marvelous relationship with my family. Barton and I practically finish one another's sentences, and Stark and I have such a glorious range of nicknames for one another-- truly, who could ask for more?”

Her hands came to rest lightly in her lap and she tucked one ankle behind the other, shoulders relaxed and demeanor open, as her years of training must have taught her. She looked as though she was preparing herself for a challenge, and he wondered if that was what he was to her. "It must be difficult to find yourself vulnerable in what amounts to enemy territory," she prompted. The sympathy in her voice seemed sincere. He distrusted it. "You mentioned Stark and Barton-- Tony Stark and Clint Barton, I presume? Have you come in regular contact with anyone else since you lost your abilities?"

“There is, of course, a difference between 'harmless' and 'vulnerable.” He pointed out, seizing on the word. She didn't ruffle, and already he disliked that. She reminded him of his M—of Frigga, so collected, so in control. So caring. Though there was something more, too-- something calculated about it. Like she had been taught to be this.  
“Additionally, my 'abilities' as you call them, were not 'lost', they were stripped from me in retribution. And am I in enemy territory, Ms. Rivera? I was under the impression you wanted us to be friends.” He smiled at her, ignoring the discomfort of the tug against his new scar tissue. He sounded positively chipper, and it felt just like aping for Frigga after being caught sneaking around.

“An erroneous impression, I’m afraid,” she informed him matter-of-factly with a small shake of her head, unfolding her hands and laying them on the armrests of her chair as she sat back. “I’m of much better help to you as clinician than as a friend. There are, of course, people who consider you a threat still, even in your current situation. My job is to convince them that you are not a threat to those in here seeking to get better.” She wasn’t fooled by his evasion, he could tell, but she seemed willing to follow its path… for now.

“And what good would harming any of these people do me? Ordinarily I would say they were too insignificant for me to bother, but given that I am now equally insignificant... at the very least any act of violence on my part would gain me nothing.” He pursed his lips, then leveled his eyes directly at hers. “I am not a good man, and will not attempt to convince you otherwise, but I am a strategist, a logician, and above all else, intelligent. I know when actions will and will not serve me.”  
He did not mind that she didn't wish to become friendly. He shared that wish, himself.  
Really, all he wanted now was to be back in his room, and for Rogers to visit as he'd said he would.

The breath she released once he finished speaking was closer to contemplative sigh, blinking away from his gaze a moment later to glance towards the clock on the wall behind him. He saw the shift in her attention, and only then registered that it was the first time she’d pulled it away from him.

“I believe that’s all for today. I’ve scheduled our next appointment for the two days from now. Now that all the pleasantries are out of the way, I look forward to hearing a bit more about your experiences with the Avengers as of late, next time,” she informed him, a wry edge to her smile as she pressed a button on her gold bracelet to call for the orderlies.

“Mm, yes. I'm sure. Though I imagine you've access to well documented reports about each of those 'experiences'.” He let his mouth shift lopsidedly, feeling somehow that he had won this first encounter. “I suppose I needn't bother assuring you that I'll be here. These goons will see to it.” He gestured to the men as they came through the door in tandem. He kept himself sounding light hearted and amused, though for whose benefit he wasn’t entirely sure. He sat up straight in his chair and allowed them to wheel him out without any fuss.

It wasn't until he was back in his room that he realized that he was no closer to leaving this place than he had been, that even a little more freedom may be worth playing their games. He felt his jaw clenching and hurried to turn his attentions elsewhere, lest his frustration boil to the surface and cause him to do something they might decide was too dangerous.

The following day was back to his being left alone, save for mealtimes and the occasional check in to see to it that he hadn’t escaped or hurt himself.

He managed to get himself to the bathroom and lift himself on and off of the toilet on day four, and felt disgusted with the part of himself that tried to be proud of the accomplishment.

“I was King of Asgard!” He whispered harshly to his reflection, trying to glare it into humility. He levered himself up and out of the chair, tossing his front across the counter and angling to be able to put his hands into the sink.

Once washed, he splashed water into his hair, slicking it back out of the way, and then threw handfuls over his face.

“It’s hardly any wonder Rogers hasn’t been back to see you.” He spoke maliciously to his own face in the mirror, seeing himself fully for the first time since this had all begun.  
“How much more of a disgrace were you when you were broken? Worthless, powerless, deformed little mortal.” He tried it on, exercising the luxury of self loathing that he’d been distracted from by his torture.

His chest hurt, though, from bearing the majority of his weight, and the counter pressed a sharp line across his sensitive abdomen. He lowered himself back into the chair, and thought on it.

Four days was longer than Rogers had ever stayed away. Even when he'd gone to Asgard it hadn’t been so long.  
He wondered how much of it was lies-- He’d known there was this chance that he was being put out of sight and out of mind. But if the rest of this mortal life was to be nothing more than sitting, alone in a room… this was probably the effect his imprisonment in Asgard was meant to have on him. But where he had stayed for… a month? More perhaps? There, it had taken him only four days to feel the weight of this isolation.

A wave of emptiness overtook him, and he spent the day staring at page after page in the books he’d been provided, their words falling out of focus while his mind echoed with jeers and reminders that he had no one to blame for this but himself, even as he argued that he could blame everyone but himself.

 

He didn’t bother eating when they brought food, and he didn’t fight them when he was put to bed, but he lay there, sleepless, tearing himself apart. He dug his fingers into his arms until he had bruises, and waited for the sun to rise on another day.

Sometime in the night, his ennui had turned to anger, and he felt like he was near to his boiling point.

When the men came to get him up, cleaned, and dressed-- apparently a phenomenon that was saved for days he had to interact with others-- he lashed out at them, snarling that he could do it, fighting for his own privacy. Fighting to keep his still semi emaciated body out from their prying eyes.

They placed a chair in the shower for him and stood just outside of the open door, but he at least had the thin plastic drape between him and them, and he tried to be grateful for that small mercy, but the anger spread through him like a poison, turning that gratitude into resentment.

He turned the taps off when he was done and waited for them to come and wrap him in a towel and man handle him back into his chair, then into the room proper, and then into clothing.

He spoke not a word to them and ground his teeth together, ignoring them as much as he could despite their manipulations of his body.

When he was wheeled to Dr. Rivera’s office, his hair was still leaking drips of cool water down the back of his clothing.

This time, he made no pretense at pleasantries. He simply placed a sneer on his face and waited for her to speak, his arms crossed over himself comfortably.

He watched her take in his body language, watched her own change imperceptibly. She was bracing for the session, already on the defensive, without him even needing to have uttered a word. Good. He had to work to keep the slow smile from spreading over his face.  
He had no doubt she’d been briefed on his turbulent behavior, or perhaps even witnessed it herself, through cameras in his room. He saw her gather herself in, saw the professionalism settle fully in place, and let it, certain he would enjoy destroying that mask more if he could do so thoroughly.  
“So how are you feeling?” she asked, her expression neutral as she sat back.

He snorted incredulously, and affixed a sweet smile on his face.  
“Oh, I'm doing gloriously. Everything is exactly the way it should be, isn't it? I'm here, where I belong, where I can't hurt anyone and where I won't ever grow beyond this chair, these walls…” He could feel the hopelessness looming, and fought it down, turning it around on her. “But tell me, did our last session go as you wanted it to?” He tilted his head, making a show of looking her up and down. “Did you get what you wanted out of me? Or did you send a message to your superiors, explaining that I am a lost cause?” He enunciated clearly, his words sharp, biting, meant to sting, all while he smiled prettily across at her.

“If I thought you were a lost cause, we wouldn’t be sitting here,” she answered, her words measured. “Our last session was merely about introductions, not a whole lot to write home about. Do you think you’re a lost cause?”

“Oh no...” He said quietly, gaining a measure of her. “No, you see, I think you want to make this about me, when really, we ought to be talking about you. It occurs that you haven't told me what it is you stand to gain from this. Tell me, what is it you are hoping for? A pat on the head from dear Director Fury? A gold star on a certificate for a job well done? Or something a little more flashy, perhaps. Do you plan to spread your news to the world, proclaim to the very sky that it was you, the woman who tamed Loki? And how many did you beat out for the honor, hmm? What made them think you of all people were worthy of me? Who did you sleep with for the opportunity?” He was as snide and demeaning as he could be, the flow of the questions meant to humiliate and challenge, his tone once known for bringing scullery maids to tears.

Anger flashed in her eyes for an instant, and he knew something he said had found its mark. Good. He hoped she would lash out at him, would tell him something of what he was meant to be doing here...  
She leaned forward slowly, elbows resting on her thighs and her gaze fixed on Loki.

“There are people I could be helping who want my help. Worthy of you? Honor? If you think I would sit through this vitriol for a gold star and a pat on the head, then we have a lot of work to do,” she said quietly. “I know you don’t like me. Hell, you probably don’t like anyone. And why should you, when you’ve been left here, locked up and alone while people poke at you with a stick and try to figure out how you work.”  
He appreciated her technique, at least. Trying to make it sound like she was on his team, even while including herself with his opponents. If less were at stake, he would applaud.

“And why is that, hmm? When you wrote your report on our session, was there a special note for Captain America, telling him not to worry about promises he made? Telling him that I wasn't worth the trip, that I had nothing to say to him?” He shifted his arms where they crossed, moving to wrap them further around him rather than across him. He wanted to look proud, haughty, but he was dancing on frayed nerves. “Just because I am not jumping to spill my inner workings to you does not mean that I won’t speak to anyone else. Or perhaps I shouldn’t. Perhaps I ought to refuse to speak to anyone until The Good Captain keeps his promise. His end of the bargain. He was meant to come back.” He hated how his voice strained and cracked at the end there, and he shifted his eyes away, his jaw thrust angrily forward while he clamped his teeth firmly shut.

She watched him quietly for a moment, and if she was surprised at all by the revealing outburst, it didn’t show. Then she sat back again, reached for the tablet resting on the small table next to her chair, and after a few swipes across the screen she typed away a quick note.

“Steve Rogers, he promised to visit? I saw his name was on the clearance list, though I wasn’t aware you two were friends,” she remarked. Her voice was as intentionally bland and mild as her face.

“Did I say that?” He snapped, trying to recover from his unintentional falter. “No one said we were friends. I said we had a bargain. I'm meant to concede to this confinement, and he was meant to return. He hasn't though. And I tire of this place, this... chair. I thought I was meant to be learning to walk again. I see two men five times a day, and only just today have I been washed in preparation of being in your presence. So I will ask you again: Is my isolation your doing? Or has Rogers simply reneged on his word?” He gripped his armrests, leaning forward towards her. “Either way, I won't be left here alone. I won't spend what few days I have rereading Moby Dick.” He narrowed his eyes, challenging her to tell him otherwise.

She set the tablet down, her attention on him once more.

“No one has seen the report I made for our last visit, and there was nothing in there concerning Steve Rogers, so no. It’s not my doing. Perhaps the Captain is tied up on a mission. I can ask, if you’d like?” She offered. “Meanwhile, your physical therapy can only begin once you’ve been cleared as cooperative and stable. That means eating your meals, getting some semblance of sleep regularly, and being polite, if not respectful towards the specialists working with you. And if you’re tired of Moby Dick, I’m sure we can find something else for you to read.”  
He saw her fingers twitch towards her alert bracelet and settled back in his chair, loathe for this meeting to end just when they seemed to be getting somewhere.

“Please do not patronize me, Doctor Rivera.” He grit out, his words polite, if not necessarily his tone. “Do not act as though my every problem can be solved by your tapping on your tiny screen. I have lost the majority of my life, my strength, my health, my standing, my power, my use... You cannot make everything better by bringing me a new book. And as far as my politeness... Have I not been? Until today, I have been a model example of good behavior, but now, as ever, the only way to get definitive answers is by acting out. I am here because your Captain wants me here, I behave because he asked me to, and I have nothing else holding me to it than my gratitude and the debt I owe him for my life. But that will not tide me over for long, and I grow tired of being ignored.”

“Oh you can snap at me all you want, that’s practically part of my job description at this point,” she replied lightly. “It’s just a matter of making sure no one else takes the brunt of your temper. I can’t fix your life for you, Loki, but I can make it a bit easier in this facility, if you’ll let me. I mentioned interpersonal relationships during our last session; you conveniently neglected to mention Steve Rogers. For someone with so few attachments to anyone, you seem pretty distressed at the thought of him abandoning you here.”

He felt his lips thinning s he pressed them together, and tried to smooth the irritation from his face. He was out of practice-- fear and pain had made him complacent, and he ought to be harder to see through than this. He cleared his throat.

“You have files of my time on your world. I did not think it necessary to retread the subject of what they contain. Surely you will have noticed by now that the majority of information on me has been collected by Rogers. As I said, I owe him my life. He interceded with your tribunal on my behalf, and so twice now it is because of him that I am not dead. Insofar as abandonment-- can you truly blame me? As you have pointed out, I am very much alone. At least before, I might wake up with one of your heroes standing over me, waiting to demand answers the moment I opened my eyes. Here, there is only ever a man with your dull human food, a man to take me in to relieve myself, or a man waiting to put me to bed. I lack the stimulation that even Asgard afforded me in my cell. Unless your intent in my imprisonment is to drive me mad, it would seem that without Rogers around, the mercy of your people runs low.” Again, it was a challenge. He didn't have Rogers's ability to draw out the best in people,but he could attempt to remind her of it. He felt brought low for that, too, but he hadn’t been given any opportunity to talk his way into better conditions before now.

She breathed out a quiet hum, seeming to turn something over in her mind for a moment or two. “A probationary period might not hurt,” she mused, mostly speaking to herself now. “I can’t have you moved out of the isolation wing, not yet, but I can order them to take you out to the common area once a day, under supervision. Give you some breathing room. As for Rogers… the best I can do is let him know that you inquired after him.”

He scowled, but said nothing more about Rogers. He wasn't going to give her more cause to think him distressed at The Captain's absence, and he didn't doubt that she was limited in her range of options for aiding. Wouldn't that be just the insult on the injury, putting him in a low priority place. Though, to be fair, much of the time he'd spent here did seem to lend itself to that impression. He was truly no threat to this world, and they were treating him as such.  
He almost would rather have been sentenced as the monster he was-- at least there was some honor in that.  
“And in your common room, whom do you suppose I would interact with? I was under the impression that recovering criminals and superbeings were held here until they could function in society. And you think that their influence on me or mine on them will somehow help?” He scoffed. “It does feel, I'll admit, more than a little like handing a sword to a child. Or is it some kind of test? Will I be punished for speaking to the wrong person, though I know nothing of their crimes?”

“Oh no, if we allowed everyone out into the same room at the same time, the results would be catastrophic,” she acknowledges. “You’ll be around people who have been specifically cleared for interaction with you. There won’t be many of them at first, so you won’t have to worry about speaking to the ‘wrong person’. But you’re right, this is a test, and more of the facility will be open to you if you pass. You are, of course, welcome to decline.”

“That wouldn't be very _cooperative_ of me, would it?” He asked sweetly, dropping his chin to smile at her from under lowered brows.  
He had misgivings, of course. Mainly in the form of wondering how he would defend himself against whatever cretins they may unleash upon him, but then... perhaps those orderlies would prove to be good for something other than decoration after all. And if the worst should happen, well. It would be fitting, wouldn't it, for Loki to end with a whimper, just like he'd been brought into the world.  
“I will try your common room. When, do you suppose, should I expect to be brought before my peers?”

“I’ll arrange for you to be taken out tomorrow at noon,” she informed him with a smile. “You and the others will have lunch early so that your time will be freed up. Our next session will be the day after that and I look forward to hearing about the experience.” Her hand went to her bracelet, alerting the orderlies that their session for the day was over. “Ah, and please make an effort to eat?”

“I think we're out of time for this session.” He told her quietly, intentionally clamming up when the orderlies came in. “But we shall see.” He added, lest the promised freedom be retracted for something so foolish as his being unused to this pathetic body's needs.  
“Until then, Dr. Rivera.” He called back to her as he was wheeled out. It was, for now, the closest she would get to a thank you from him.

The next day his food came early, as promised, and he was asked if he would like to bathe. He supposed at least Rivera had followed through with some of his requests. Moby Dick still taunted him from its place on the shelf, but he could let that pass if he had the opportunity to leave this room for something other than psychological poking.

Less than half an hour after he gulped down the soggy green mush that stood in for sustenance, he was collected and wheeled out to a large room. There were only a handful of others there, and laid out were tables with puzzles, a television with animation flashing across it in vibrant hues, a cabinet upon which were stacked boxes with titles along their sides, cards, dice… it appeared to be a gaming room of sorts. Centered at the opposite side from the door was a piano, a great black glossy behemoth, and piled on it was a box of what looked like childrens’ musical instruments. They did not seem to be a popular pick for amusement. More’s the pity; it had been too long since he heard music.

Two of the women, one a dark skinned beauty and one fair and plump, were standing at a table where they furiously churned sticks with small skewered figures upon them.  
An older man with a long, narrow face who was balding at the top but retained longer hair below, was watching avidly.  
From the couch in front of the television, a man… Loki thought it was a man, from the dimensions, turned to look at him. Again, he thought he turned to look at him. The man had no face at all. He appeared to be the white of a cloud, save for a single large circle of black that took up the majority of the front of his head. It wasn’t simply a color, either, but rather the sort of darkness Loki could distantly remember falling through, a lifetime and a half ago.  
Loki looked away, disturbed.

There was a fiercely beautiful woman with short hair, dark brown to nearly black, who made no secret of taking his measure, but almost as soon as he registered that was what she was doing, she had dismissed him and turned her attention back to the game of chess currently in progress, where her partner, a muscular and attractive black man with a prosthetic leg, had just lifted his hand from his play.

Loki was unsure where to go, once the orderlies released him. None of the people in the room seemed to be actively threatening, but nor were they friendly. He intended, at first, to simply look out the window, soak in the rays that filtered through the gossamer curtains, but when he approached, a small movement alerted him to one final member of their number, hidden in the shadows.  
He was wedged in the small space between the end on a bookshelf and the outside wall, seated where the light from the windows was completely cut out by the shades, which were pulled to that side. Loki drew up short, feeling suddenly like prey that had just seen the predator’s eyes.

He didn’t even register the silence that fell when the clicking and shaking sounds from the womens’ sport had ceased.

“Hey there, new kid. Why don’t you come over here, let me introduce you to Tilda.” A hand closed on his shoulder and he flinched. She took it off immediately. “Sorry ‘bout that. He doesn’t really like to be disturbed.” She explained.  
Loki looked up at her and was reminded of Gunnhilde, wife of Volstagg. Some of it was the shape of her, though she was smaller; this woman had never had the good fortune to sit at Volstagg’s table-- but  it was mainly her demeanor. She seemed kind, but steely. Loki couldn’t help but wonder what it was she had done to warrant her time here.

“I’m Marsha.” She pressed on through his silence, then gave a small, nervous smile. She backed away, beckoning, as if he were a stray cat to be summoned home. Still, he followed, only daring one backward glance at the man in the corner.

“Loki.” He introduced himself, when he reached their small party, and the three of them nodded knowingly.

“My name,” The older man said, drawing himself up and raising his arm into the air with all the aplomb of a trained thespian, “Is Maynard Tiboldt. I prefer ‘The Ringmaster’ but have been informed that titles hold people at bay, and impede my rehabilitation.” He rolled his R’s and added far more time for dramatic pauses than was absolutely necessary. Loki immediately disliked him.  
Marsha seemed like she could tell, or maybe she was just used to peoples’ reactions to Tiboldt. She hastened to intercede.

“And like I said, this is Tilda.” She gestured at the dark lady, and Tilda nodded politely.

“Pleased to meet you.” She said. Her voice was low and throaty and reminded Loki of a wood fire. She was quiet, but all but reeked of intelligence. Inversely of Tiboldt, he nearly immediately liked her.

“I used to be called Volcana.” Marsha said, her eyes darting around his face for any sign of recognition, and looking as though she hoped not to find it. Unfortunately for her, the name did ring familiar.

“You were a familiar of The Enchantress, were you not?” He had a feeling the words would be unwelcome, and sure enough, she winced.

“Not any more, though.” She hastened to add.

“And you?” He asked, dismissing Marsha for the moment and turning his attention to Tilda.

“They called me Deadly Nightshade. I guess you could say I was a mastermind, turned mob boss, with ambitions for domination.” She was no braggart; the words were stated as simple fact.

He merely looked at Tiboldt, who was only too happy to spring into speech.  
“I was the Showrunner of the Circus of Crime, or the Cirque de Nuit for those less savvy. I inherited it from my father, and--”

“He had machine in his hat, rigged to hypnotize people into giving him money.” The heavily accented voice of the woman near the chess board interrupted, and everyone drew up short. She didn’t turn around, though, or acknowledge them any further, and once she’d moved her piece, she sat up in her chair and continued to ignore them, so Loki turned back to Martha, seeking explanation.

“That’s Melina Vostokoff.” She said, darting quick eyes over at the man in the corner. Loki followed suit only to find that the man hadn’t moved and was still staring at him. He felt unprepared for whatever it was that man had in mind for him. Vulnerable. But more, he felt laid bare. he shivered.

“And opposite her?” He asked.

“Name’s Curtis Carr, alias Chemestro. And don’t let this icy welcome fool you-- Melina’s really a total sweetheart.” Curtis told him. Loki almost couldn’t tell if he was sincere, but the sudden sound of brittle material splintering made him startle.

Curtis looked under the table and straightened up, swearing.  
“Goddamnit Melina, not again! Learn to take a joke you damn ice hag.” By the time he’d finished speaking, though, two orderlies had stepped in, and Melina had complacently walked out of the door ahead of one of them, not looking back.

“I didn’t even see her move.” Loki admitted, impressed.

“She’s one of the best assassins in the world. If you see her move, it’s only because she wants you to. She studied under the same people who trained Natasha Romanov. Don’t say that name around her, though. She’s got some serious middle child issues about the whole thing.”  
Loki wondered if that was akin to the pains of being the second son.

He was distracted from that, though, when the white faceless man stood and approached them.  
“My name used to be Jonathan Ohnn.” He said, and it was disarming the way his throat worked, but there were no lips to move, and his jaw stretched his face, but the black circle upon it remained unchanged. “Now folks just call me Spot.” He shrugged and held out a hand. “Saw the portal you opened up over New York. Gotta said, big fan of your work.” Loki tentatively shook the proffered hand.

“Thank you.” He said. “And you are all… you’ve all elected to be rehabilitated, or…?”

“This is part of my sentence!” Tiboldt chimed in. “Once I am proclaimed whole and unlikely to return to my dastardly ways, I will have my circus returned to me, and I can start again, build it from the ground up. Ahhh, to be back under a big top…” He trailed off dreamily, and Loki realized that he reminded him of Fandral. No wonder he was so instantly annoyed.

“I decided to.” Marsha said. “Long story, but it’s just time for a new me. Reinvent myself, separate from my past. You know.”

“My powers revolve around the spots that should be all over my body. Unfortunately, I threw them all as weapons, and S.H.I.E.L.D. is holding them hostage til I shape up.” Spot said, shrugging.

“I met a hero, I’m here to learn how to do him proud.” Curtis said, walking up on a newly replaced prosthetic. Loki felt his eyes pulled from its gleaming plastic surface to his own, nigh on useless legs.  
“You worried they’re too banged up?” Curtis asked, and Loki jerked his face up to meet the tall man’s gaze.  
“I am just eager for therapy to begin, that I might find out.” Loki told him.

“You do look worse for the wear since the last time we saw you on the news.” Tilda said. “What happened?”

“Torture.” Loki said shortly, well aware that they were all staring down at him. “Not here, though. I was dumped here, left to die, and Captain America found me. Saved my life.” It as his turn to shrug, but that shrug turned into a full body flinch when the figure in the corner suddenly swooped in, descending upon Loki like he had just caught dinner.

The man brought his face to a halt scant inches from Loki’s own, and he could hear his heart hammering in his ears.  
The face looked young-- younger than anyone else in this room. The eyes, though, looked old, and Loki wondered if this man, like he, had seen the ripples of time. Or perhaps simply something equally horrific.

Loki froze, and after a long few moments, the man pulled away and hurried out the door.

The orderlies didn’t try to stop him, but one did follow him.

Once he couldn’t see him any more, Loki took the breath he’d been holding out on.

“And that,” Tilda said with a certain amount of relish, “Was The Winter Soldier. You remember how Melina was almost the best assassin in the world? Well he’s so good, most people don’t believe he exists. Or he was. Turns out, he used to be Captain America’s best buddy. We’re supposed to call him ‘James’ or ‘Bucky’, but it makes him unhappy if we do. So we don’t call him anything at all.” She sounded almost smug. “Looks like you made yourself an enemy, Captain’s boy.” She put her hands on her hips.

“Now, who’s next against me on this thing? Marsha, I think we can agree you were losing miserably.” She gestured at the table, and Marsha nodded.

Slowly everyone drifted back to their respective chosen activities, Curtis moving to join Spot on the couch, where an animated lion was throwing another into a rushing herd of hoofed beasts.  
Loki wheeled himself over next to the piano, to sit in the sun. He stayed there quietly for a few minutes, then reached out and tapped the G key. When no one yelled at him, he hit each of five notes, one after the other, G, F, E, D, C, descending lower as he went. He removed his hand and just listened to the sounds around him until the orderlies collected him up. The others lingered on, presumably allowed to stay later, or perhaps allowed to see themselves back to their respective rooms.

When he got to his, and the door was closed and locked behind him, he wheeled over to the desk and was surprised to see a small pile of new books on the desk for him to read, along with a note.  
‘Let me know what’s most to your taste, and I’ll see if I can’t get you more. -Dr. T. Rivera’  
He felt a real smile cross his face and picked up the utmost one.  
“A Window in Thrums.” he read, fingers trailing over the gilt embossing on the cover. “Yes indeed.”

And so the sixth day passed, with no word from Rogers. But still it was a marked improvement from the forth. He ate dinner automatically, refusing to take the time to savor the utter lack of taste, and slept when he was supposed to.

Let anyone complain about that.


	2. Two

He awoke knowing that he was meant to see Doctor Rivera that day, and he felt relatively comfortable with that fact, replaying his group interactions in his mind. The only sour notes were Vostokoff’s attack on Carr, and Barnes’ scrutiny and sudden flight. Neither of which he thought he could reasonably be blamed for. And it seemed that, if anything, these people tried to pride themselves on being reasonable.

He spent part of the morning struggling with the dialect of the new novel he’d been given, finding that to speak the words aloud helped at times, and at others he was completely lost. Spoken language, almost without fail, Loki understood, for he had been alive long enough to have interacted with members of a good many races and species. When written, on the other hand, the languages each had a fully new set of rules, and though he had conquered some of the older ones of Midgard, this Scottish was confusing at times. Fortunately he was a quick study, and with nothing else to do, it was an almost welcome challenge.

The handlers came after lunch, and the larger one, whose nametag called him ‘Bruno’, took hold of his chair’s handles, but Loki cleared his throat, attempting to sound timid.

“If it’s all the same to you, Bruno, would you mind terribly if I moved my own wheels? It’s just that I get so little chance to move while in here.”

And so it was that, though he had to allow Bruno to get the door for him, he wheeled himself into Dr. Rivera’s office. He stalwartly kept his eyes away from her face until he was stopped in front of her, and the exertion stung in his shoulder blades and the muscles of his arms, but he felt accomplished.

“Doctor Rivera.” He greeted her calmly, the tranquility of his voice betrayed by the shortness of his breath. It was an odd position, leaning forward and working his arms. He would need to practice at it more. He’d also found himself favoring-- and as such, drifting towards-- his left side. He’d have to remember to compensate.

She was already seated in her usual chair, fingers swiping absently at her tablet when Loki arrived, and she set it aside as she looked up to greet him.   
“Hello, Loki. You look better,” she remarked with a smile, apparently pleased with his progress. “Were the books I sent you all right?”

“I've started A Window in Thrums. It would seem dull if it weren't so... patently foreign.” He shrugged, not attempting to antagonize, just stating his opinion. “I do like decoding some of the flavored linguistics, though. Charming.”

The door clicked closed and he sat up a little straighter in his chair, shifting to make himself more comfortable for the duration of the visit.  
“Was there any special reason you chose those books, or is it simply my luck of the draw?”

“Part of it was guess-work,” she admitted sheepishly. “I did my best, based on what I knew of you and our sessions, but I didn’t feel I knew you well enough personally yet to hazard an informed guess. I thought it at least couldn’t hurt to become more familiar with other cultures. If you have a particular subject you’re interested in, I can do my best to oblige.”

“Guess work can lead to some interesting things. As for other subjects...I might be interested in learning some things about Midgardians, now that, for all intents and purposes, I am one.” He considered for a long moment, then took a deep breath. “What can you tell me about life expectancy? For...for humans, I mean.” He cleared his throat and looked intently at the red areas on his hands from working his wheels, physical manifestations of his newfound frailty.  
“My interest is... not nearly so academic.” He admitted, flicking his eyes upwards to gauge her response.

The smile she gave him was one of understanding, and it made his instantly bristle. As if she _could_ understand.

“It tends to vary, particularly these days with the advances there have been in science and medicine,” she answered. “Typically if one keeps up one’s health and manages stress efficiently, you’ll end up on the longer end of the spectrum.” She paused, clearly trying to judge her words. “There’ve been humans known to live well past 100 years.”

“A hundred years.” He said softly, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of him. He'd known the number was low. Negligible, really. He'd figured his fa-- that Odin would keep him in the dungeons of Asgard at least thrice that, after his assault on Midgard with the Chitauri.  
“And how old do you suppose this body is? Thirty? Forty?” He searched her face, trying to find a way to explain to her why he was reeling.  
“I have only, at most, perhaps seven decades to live. You spend your entire life knowing that, but I… I should live to see five thousand.” He felt his words growing desperate, higher pitched, his hands beginning to shake as he struggled to find words to encapsulate the rising panic in his chest. “I am one thousand fifty this year. While your life expectancy is a matter of minimal concern to you… to me it is the equivalent of being told I’m to die, barely having achieved the age of majority.” He gulped in air, attempting to stave off tears.

“Age of majority?” She murmured, brows knotting, and he saw her mind at work behind her eyes.

“I have always been the younger brother. I have always known that Thor would have a coronation day to mark his transition from adolescence into adulthood. I knew I would never have that, when I-- I… am some time from reaching that age, still. But now it seems I won't even see it.” He grew sad, quiet.  
“I don't know how you do it. Your lives are here and gone in the blink of an eye. By your measure, I've already lived... so many lives. But for me. For me life was just starting.” He felt the wetness escape his eye and brushed at it with his hand.  
“Sorry.” He choked out, then took a deep breath, composing himself, halting his tears, trying to steady his hands and get his emotions in check. “It's still... still a shock.”

“I know,” she replied softly, almost a whisper. Like she was sad for him. Or afraid to interrupt his sudden show of emotion. He had been such a weakling, these last few days, exploding into fits of both anger and sorrow… it had been so long since anyone even acknowledged either though. Before, the pain would come regardless of whether he was laughing or crying, screaming or begging. Now… He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself.

“You’re right, we grow up knowing that our time is limited, and we’re encouraged to make the best of it. But it must be jarring to suddenly find all those years you thought you had ahead of you… gone. And all you can do now is make the best of what you have left. You were robbed of a lot of time, Loki. I’m sorry for that.” She spoke over the last of his noisy exhales, and he took a moment to be sure he was fully still again before speaking.

“But it isn't just that, is it?” He asked her with a sense of jarring clarity. “Years, family, my world-- the world I knew, that's all gone, but more than that, atop the shortened life span, my actual expectancy is smaller still, for I am in a realm that, even once released from here and allowed to build what life I can for myself, my face is recognizable, my case high profile, and there are no shortage of those who would see me dead for what I have done. My every means of defense is gone… I am helpless and alone, surrounded by enemies, and nothing you or I do will change that.” There it was. The utter helplessness, his total reliance on these people. He was truly at their mercy, had been since he arrived. At the best, he would be forever under their protection, for the remainder of his days.  
And the person who had realized that, the one that had put him here, still had yet to speak to him, to come see that he was even still alive.  
He supposed he oughtn't have expected any better. Not really.

“I like to think one of the best traits humanity has is its ability to adapt to survive,” she told him with a faint smile. “People have lived through wars, genocides, plagues, many without weapons or magic and often alone… I’m confident that you’ll find this same ability within yourself, given time. And it never hurts to make allies among your enemies,” she added. “How did you find your co-residents yesterday?”

Being asked for his judgments was as good a distraction as any, and one he grasped eagerly, with both hands, so to speak. 

“Tiboldt is an idiot, too theatrical for even my tastes, which is saying a lot. I like Marsha well enough, she seems inoffensive. I have known women like Vostokoff, though to a one they all ended up as Valkyries. She strikes me as one who works best alone and prefers it that way. But I did not speak with her long. Tilda... I do not recall her last name. She was quiet, secretive, but there is a slyness to her. I think she would be interesting to come to know, and intelligent enough to make it worthwhile, if she would allow it. If I put the energy into it. Carr seems genial enough, but not overly ambitious. Or, at least, not driven. Spot... Spot is fascinating. His face.... his form is intriguing to me and I would learn more. And the other... he seemed not to like me, or perhaps not to like Captain America. As soon as he was mentioned... the other man left. The one with the mechanical arm.” He paused, ushering his thoughts into some semblance of order. “These people are all here for different reasons, because they want to reform or because they are being made to. This is the doorway to a second chance for all of them, yes? But... for why they were chosen for me to interact with... despite the mild shenanigans, they are stable, by and large, I suppose? Save the soldier.”

She listened carefully, making note of his opinions and judgments. “I’m glad you seem to have taken an interest in some of them. They are people worth knowing one way or another.”   
Loki had to wonder what was worthwhile about Tiboldt, but he kept that to himself.   
   
“Yes, they are further along in their treatment and more stable as far as our residents go. I felt it would be a good starting point for you, and help you adjust to some of the various personalities you’ll encounter during your stay here. As for James Barnes, I believe that particular group is one of the best for him to be near, and he too is learning to cope with some sudden… life changes, I think is the best way to put it right now. I thought perhaps it might benefit you both to meet.”

“Tell me Doctor, what is his story? Rogers told me a little, and Marsha a little more, but I seem to have a good many pieces missing. And if he's going to be coming after me at some point, as it seems Tilda thinks he will, I'd prefer not to be completely unprepared.” He looked down at his pathetically frail body. “So to speak. Besides, they all know who I am and why I have done the things I've done as much as they can, without access to SHIELD documentation of my most recent stay. I feel distinctly under informed. Save about Marsha, again, as it seems we have a common... acquaintance.” He leaned back in his chair, ready to absorb the information she would impart. Knowledge was the quickest way to gain an advantage and, for now, his only weapon.

She pursed her lips, hesitating, and he frowned, aware he was about to be denied his request.  
“I wonder if it might not be better to speak to him yourself,” she finally remarked. “I would not have placed him in your session if I so much as suspected you might be in danger from him. You have to understand there’s only so much I can say without violating rules and – more importantly – trust.”

“The top assassin in, it's possible, your entire realm, who has reasons to hate the man who rescued me, and conceivably in extension myself, and you think I'm safe from him? Yes, I can see how trust rates highly with you.” He rolled his eyes. “Not that it would really matter at this rate. I feel like I will blink and suddenly find myself discorporate. I suppose the method by which that is achieved matters very little, ultimately.” He sighed. Then, lest she should think he was giving up on life as a whole, he hastened to ask, “Have I passed enough tests yet to begin receiving the training I will need to walk? I promise you, my legs are whole, it isn't impossible, but I will need supplies if I am to teach myself, and... likely the aid or advice of one of your professionals. I have never had to heal in increments before, and never without the aid of magic. I think you can trust I won't be attacking anyone until I have at least some muscle mass, and certainly I will cooperate with anything that looks to be giving me what I want. Such as my mobility.”

She seemed to be about to say something, then reconsidered, her body language reflecting the shift as she sat up a bit straighter.

"I've actually just finished altering your records to reflect that I think you're ready to begin physical therapy," she informed him. "You seem motivated and intent on recovery, and I believe you'd benefit from regular sessions from one of our specialists. Maybe tomorrow would be a good time to begin?"

“Well it can hardly be a bad time.” He agreed, pleased that it had been that simple. It seemed that at least some of the time all he needed do was ask. Or perhaps this was her way of ensuring that he truly didn't fall into a depressive fit, thanks to his loss-of-life-crisis. Either way, it suited him just fine.  
“Do you happen to know when said specialist might be available? It isn't that I have a heavy schedule, it's only that I prefer to know when things will be happening. Unannounced changes tend to--” He tapered off, remembering the days of being denied anything as comforting as a regular schedule. Besides, had he had that, he might have known how long he'd been at their mercy. He shook it off.  
“Discomfort me.” He finished. “And am I to continue seeing the group? Or was that merely a one time test?”

Her smile widened when he mentioned the group. "Yes of course, you'll be seeing them all again the day after tomorrow, so you'll be at least somewhat recovered from your first physical therapy session," she answered. "At the same time as before. As for when you can expect to meet with the specialist, how does 11 am sound? That way you’ll have the rest of the day to rest. We'll alternate that with group days, give you a chance to get to know some of the others."

“Others?” He asked sharply, his mind going back to the Soldier and his reactions... and her admission that those he had met were among the stablest. And even then, there had been violence and theatrics. He wasn't sure he was ready for... “If the group I was with before was the safe group, I shudder to think who you will introduce me to next. Fire breathers, I imagine, to go with my frosty heritage.”  
He found his words growing stilted and his posture growing more distant as he reacted to the idea, and cursed his torture again for taking away the unreadability he'd spent so much of his life crafting.

She must have noted the change, because she was quick to try and reassure him. "No, you'll remain only among our stablest residents for the foreseeable future. But that was only a sample of them, there are more that you've yet to speak to, particularly some of our younger ones," she explained. "I know you may not believe me when I say so, Loki, but your well-being is a priority to me."

He heard her say ‘younger ones’ and immediately frowned.  
“You think it wise to put me amongst children.” He asked, completely horrified at the prospect. “Should they not be around role models who are less likely to have rained destruction on the heads of them or those near them? I can only assume they are not so young to have been spared my... attempts upon their world.” He grimaced, remembering his own childhood, and how cruel and untended the words of children were then. Now, he could hardly imagine, especially given their more than ample reasoning to hate him. Children were all sociopaths, in his opinion, until society had more of a chance to place its restrictions of nicety and polite interaction upon them.

"They're really more along the lines of young adults," Rivera answered calmly. "Old enough to be able to choose their own role models and see past their preconceived notions, with some guidance. And I'm not exactly tossing you into the deep end and leaving you to sink, you'll be in a heavily supervised room with people trained to monitor for hazardous situations. I'm certain you'll be fine."

“You think I should spend time with them because of my relative age, in comparison to when I would have died, had I been allowed my full lifespan, correct? Despite my years being more than a thousand more than theirs.” He was trying to wrap his head around it. “Is it meant to make me feel better, that people younger than my body is now have equally ruined their lives with their decisions or the circumstances around them? I assume that's why they are here, isn't it?” He felt the frown lines resting heavily between his brows. “Can you tell me about them? Before I go in, that is. I don't... want to say or do anything damaging due to my ignorance.”

“Again, there are rules that dictate what I can and can’t tell you about them. But if they were so delicate I thought you would hurt them, I wouldn’t let you near them. Okay? Even if you don’t have faith in yourself, just know I don’t want to see any harm come to anyone under this roof, and I wouldn’t do anything to cause it to.”

“You’ve a home full of the scourge of your world. I realize yours is a gentler folk than those I grew up with, however on my-- on Asgard it would not be unlikely that a setting such as this be used to pit one against another until they had destroyed each other. I do not trust easily, Doctor Rivera. And though in my mind I know the differences, convincing my instincts of them will take some time.”

“Of course. And no one will deny you that time. Not here. If you don’t think you’re up to meeting the young adult group yet, I won’t make you.”

“Do you think it will help? Even realizing that I will have very little reason to see myself in them?” He asked, trying to settle himself. The worst that would happen is he would sit in silence until the allotted time was over, or ask to be returned to his room.

“You might be surprised. But yes, I think it will.”

“Then I will… try.” He was hesitant but he remembered his words to Captain Rogers. He didn’t want him to return, or check in on him, and be disappointed. To regret his decision to intervene on Loki’s behalf. Because he was slowly realizing more and more how little hope he had outside of The Captain’s protection.

“Thank you, Loki.” Doctor Rivera said, making one final note on her tablet. “Was there anything else you wanted to address before we finish up for the day?” She asked, eyebrow quirked as if to punctuate the inquiry. He decided then that he liked when she looked like that, surprised and pleased and inquisitive.

“Not just at the moment.” He told her. “Unless requests count?”   
“Go ahead.”

“Some form of roasted meat… and starches wrapped in leaves. We had something called millet often, served after being cooking rolled in the large leaves of water rich plants, and boiled. I don’t know if you have anything like that here, but… what I am served here is not dissimilar to the gruel given our prisoners as punishment. And the food given to me by the Chitauri, when they remembered I was to eat.”

“You’re on orders to eat easily digestible things, since you went so long not being able to eat, and no one wants to damage your stomach by giving you anything too rich right away. Your records show that the surgeon who worked on you also worked with a dietician to make the meal plan you’re currently on. The good news is you only have a couple more days of broth and oatmeal before you can move up to soups with solids. But I’ll see if they can’t come up with something that won’t remind you of things you’d rather not remember.”

“I’d thank you for it.” He responded, not happy to know he had to eat more tastelessness, but glad that there was at least an end in sight.

He watched that particular smile bloom again. Good, he noted to himself. At least he was pleasing his captors. If he kept them happy, he imagined his life would be easier.

“Alright. That’s it for today.” He followed the motion of her fingers on her bracelet again, being sure that he had memorized the motion, just in case, and when the doors opened he wheeled himself out.

Supper, when it came, was a white pile of mashed starch, though not gritty as the food of previous days had been. It was lightly creamy, salted, and bore the sharp sting of cheese. Just the briefest press of it to his tongue caused his mouth to fill with saliva, and he could only manage a few bites, but they were entirely worth it.

He curled into bed with the copy of Thrums in his hand, not to read, for the lights turned off of their own accord at a set time. He clenched his hands together around them, and held it up beside his face. That way, if anyone looked in on him sleeping, he wouldn’t look like he’d been conditioned to sleep with his hands chained in a certain position. He was just holding a book. No harm done. He was perfectly normal. Well on his way to being fully recovered. And the sooner he could convince them of as much, the sooner he could move away from the scrutiny, and reclaim some level of control of his life. Or what remained of it. The sooner he was out from under their thumbs, the sooner he could stop wasting everyone’s time.

***  
His boots fell heavily onto the floor and Steve shook his socks out before letting them drop into his laundry hamper. He was exhausted, bone-weary, but he had promises to keep.   
‘And miles to go before I sleep.’ He thought wryly, the tiniest twitch of a smile hitting his lips.   
At least he had his own transportation here, and didn’t have to clear the trip with anyone before heading out.

He changed into his civilian clothing and ran cold water over his hands before splashing it across his face-- just a little shock to his system, just to keep him going for long enough to get there.

The sun was rising as he left his apartment again, so soon after getting home, and he started his engine up with a rumble that felt stifled by the surreal stillness of the early morning hours. Even in a city that supposedly never slept, there were still quiet times, and Steve had gotten to know them quite well.

The ride went much quicker than it should have, all things considered, but when the roads were as open as they were now, and the wind as cold against his skin, seeping through his jeans and riding coat, he didn’t mind. He was safe enough.

He felt bad, he really did, about how long it had been since he’d checked in with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s halfway house, for Bucky’s sake as well as Loki’s, now. But Bucky never wanted to see him. Loki did, or at least his therapist said he’d asked after Steve. He wasn’t sure honestly which stance made him feel worse, though.

He hung his helmet off of the clips at the rear of his bike, locking it down more out of habit than for fear of it being stolen. Not here, any way.

It was late mid-morning now, and he thought he saw a flash of dark hair duck out of sight through a doorway when he turned his head.   
He pretended not to have noticed, because he’d learned that Bucky normally came out to see him eventually during his visits, and seeking him out made Bucky react like a cornered animal. It was better to wait, and more, it was worth the wait.

Besides, now he had something to do other than sitting in a room and making himself available.   
“Morning Travis. I’m here to see Doctor Rivera, and then visit a couple of residents please.”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers.” Travis replied. He gave him a friendly smile and handed Steve a visitor’s badge and a key card. The badge he was used to, the card less so. He must have looked puzzled.  
“It’s for access to Loki’s room, since he’s still under observation and controlled outings. Talia-- Doctor Rivera-- has an appointment ending in the next ten minutes or so, if you want to wait here for her, I’ll send her a message letting her know. She doesn’t have another one until two thirty.”

Steve thanked him and settled into a waiting room chair, unable to keep from exhaling sharply when the force of sitting made his exhaustion settle heavily onto him.   
It had only been two days since he had slept. He had gone longer, but now he lacked the adrenaline.   
He looked out the corner of his eye and caught Bucky staring through the textured glass of the window beside the door into the den.

He looked away, feigning that the motion had been the start of a stretch. He rolled his neck, groaning softly as the muscles in his shoulders clenched. Fortunately most of that would work itself out in his sleep and at his next session in the gym.   
He propped his chin on his hand so that he could turn his head a little more away from Bucky, though he strained his ears for any sound of an approach.   
He must have stopped concentrating at some point, though, because the next thing he knew, his head was slipping off his fist and he was jerking awake… and Bucky was sitting right beside him, sideways in the chair, perched on one arm of it and leaning in, studying Steve from up close.

And he had flinched.

Steve felt immediately awful, but it seemed that it wasn’t Bucky’s proximity that had made him shift, which in turn had caused him to wake. Doctor Talia Rivera was standing a few feet off, watching their interaction with interest.

"It seems like Fury's running you ragged again," She remarked with a smile, drawing a few steps closer. "I was beginning to wonder if I should let you sleep for a few more minutes. James seemed content enough to let you be." She gestured slightly at him, and though her calm was absolute and unruffleable, he thought she might be a little nervous.   
He couldn’t blame her. It hadn’t been very long since Bucky had been a tool, a weapon. A mindless killer. Now he wasn’t, though… not a killer. Not mindless. Not entirely. But he understood why she would worry. Who knew what kind of programming might be in his old friend’s head.

Steve’s eyes darted to where Bucky was making a face at being called James. The attention and Steve being awake brought a change over the soldier, and while Steve wouldn’t have described him as relaxed, the way he straightened his back and squared his shoulders made it clear that whatever he had been before had been far better. He watched as the other man stood, nodded shakily at Doctor Rivera, then retreated, without a backward glance or a single word said to Steve.   
He sighed and pushed his hair back from his brow, frustrated and trying to keep it in check.

“It was important. I should have slept before I came, but I got your message about Loki asking after me, figured I ought to stop in here first.” Swiftly, he remembered his manners and stood up, ignoring the ache in his feet. He put his hand out towards her to shake.  
“I’m sorry; how are you?”

She was looking after Bucky and she frowned slightly before her eyes and attention snapped back to Steve. She took his hand and squeezed it gently, and it took Steve a moment to adjust. Her hands were smaller than he was used to, and much softer. He mostly dealt with agents, fighters-- he was tired.

"I'm well, thank you.” She told him. “I have my hands pretty full, as always, but it's work I enjoy. If you'd like, we can step into my office for a minute or two and then you can go visit your friend," she offered. "I think he'll be quite happy to see you."

“Which one is my friend?” He asked, a wistfulness in his tone. He snapped out of it quickly enough, though. Too little sleep often left him maudlin at the end of it, and he had no business bringing that kind of emotion into a place like this. The people here were healing, growing, getting better. No one had time for self pity, especially not the self pity of a high profile hero.

He nodded and made an after you gesture, then followed her back through the doors and into her space, seating himself in one of the chairs and trying not to think of himself as being up for examination.

His mind went instead to Bucky here, to Loki here, with her across from them. He wondered how many secrets were entrusted to her, and felt a twinge of fear creep up his spine. He knew she wasn’t Hydra. Maria Hill had interviewed and approved the woman herself. But he was still dealing with the cleanup from a mess that had come from being too trusting.

He kept his thoughts to himself and watched her settle in.

She glanced at him with a curious smile for a moment, but said nothing more until she was in position. He got the sense that she was very careful about how she displayed herself, and wondered if that was true particularly in her office, or outside of it as well. Her legs were crossed, demeanor casual and relaxed as she regarded Steve.

"I'm sorry Bucky didn't linger around long enough for you to talk to him," she apologized. "We're doing our best, but he's still rather skittish, even with the other residents."

“It’s alright. I suppose I should be used to it by now. Maybe he’ll get there… if not, I mean. At least he’s… here.” He shrugged, groping for the words and coming up short. Relief was principal among his emotions, though he had that longing that came up whenever he saw Bucky’s face. The recognition that this was his friend but not that always stopped him short and felt like a punch to the solar plexus.

“What about Loki, though? The message I got when I got home said he’d been asking after me-- is he alright?” Bucky at least was a known quantity, unchanging, and though that wasn’t great, at least Steve knew he wasn’t likely to get worse. Loki on the other hand… he wasn’t so sure about.

"Loki's been doing rather well, I think." She hesitated, obviously looking for words of her own. "He just started physical therapy and will hopefully be walking again, and he's been quite cooperative in general in terms of eating and our sessions. We're integrating him into a group of residents as well... I don't think it'll be too long before he's out of isolation."

She sounded cautiously hopeful, and he smiled, though he felt his brows pulling toward the center of his forehead.   
“I’m glad to hear it, but… if that’s the case, do you have any idea why he wanted me here? If he’s doing so well… I mean, I guess I just thought there was something wrong.” He tried to be glad for the good news, but all he could feel was worried. Worried and suspicious.   
This was Loki after all, and a Loki who had been intentionally broken. He should be fighting it, fighting being rebuilt. He seemed alternately like he had given up completely, or like he was trying to rebuild himself. This cooperation didn’t sound like him. He wanted to know what Loki was up to.

"Well, uh..." She sighed. "He said you promised. I think he felt it was part of the deal? He comes here and cooperates with the program, and you come see him and make sure he's all right."

There was a pause as she considered her next words.

"He seems to be quite lonely. I think the possibility of you never coming back upsets him."

 

Steve felt his eyes go wide, then huffed out a breathy laugh and rubbed his hands down his face.   
“Right.” He said faintly. Of course. He had said that, hadn’t he? But… he really didn’t mean-- he wasn’t--   
“I didn’t mean to make him think I was. Was holding myself over his head, like some kind of threat or treat or something.” He looked sharply back at her, hoping she didn’t think too badly of him because of this. “I’m not trying to manipulate him. I wanted to give him a chance to settle in, and… I was on a mission. It was… it was important. But I never intended to abandon him or hurt him. I’ll talk to him, make sure he knows that.” He tried to make it sound firm, but it came out as a question. She’d know best what he should say, wouldn’t she?   
Or would she? She said he was cooperating, but not necessarily that he was being open. Had Loki talked to her at all? And if he had, how much had he told her, and how much of it was true? Steve had come to trust what Loki told him… but only what he had told him. Things Loki said to anyone else were suspect.

"I understand, I tried to help him understand that you were most likely just occupied with a mission. Being Captain America is a full-time job, after all," she assured him. "I think he'll just be glad to see you again, and maybe reassuring him of your... acquaintance-ship wouldn't hurt. I think there's a chance he might make friends here eventually, but it's good if he knows he can count on you as part of his support system."

“I don’t want him feeling like he can count on me if I can’t be here for him as often as he’s going to need, though.” Steve pointed out, trying to be fair. “After all, like you said, being Captain America is a full time job. How long was he here before he started um, looking for me to come back?”  
He tried to figure out how many days it had been so far, a week? More? Around that, though. He could manage once a week trips here, couldn’t he? Could he?   
Half the time he didn’t know his own schedule, but Fury had said that he should be here as often as possible. He just wished ‘here’ was a little closer to everything else he had to attend to ‘as often as possible’.

"My professional opinion is that while you don't need to necessarily be here, staying in touch might be beneficial to keeping him grounded," she informs him. "Send him a message, a picture, a letter, something to let him know that you haven't forgotten him. It was shortly after our first session, a few days after he arrived, that he grew concerned about the possibility that I might have warned you away from seeing him. I reassured him that wasn't the case, and that's when I sent you the message."

“Is it-- would it be possible for me to. Hm.” Steve felt around in his coat pocket and came out with his Stark phone.   
“If I get Tony to make one of these that can only communicate with my phone-- I’m sure he can do that-- do you think it would be okay for Loki to have one? Then he could get in touch with me as often or as little as he wanted, when I’m not here.” He didn’t actually know their rules about the residents having phones, but it would make sense if they weren’t allowed. That way they wouldn’t be able to call for backups and a break out if they weren’t happy with how their treatment was going.

Given that, he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no, but considering this was  _Loki,_ and it was him asking... well, maybe that would count for something.

"I'll do my best to make it possible," she promised. "With certain limits in place, I think we could make it work."

“If not, we can figure something else out. Maybe you can print out emails for him from me? I just thought he’d doubt it less if he could have instant proof that it’s really me, and he might feel better if it’s not one sided.” Steve pocketed the phone again, and worried at his lip.

“Bucky hasn’t said anything about wanting to hear from me, though? Has he said anything at all?”

"Emails we can definitely do," she agreed. Security probably still wouldn't like it, but there wasn't much they could do about it other than scowl.

"Bucky... doesn't say much yet. He's still very much struggling with the tangled mess in his mind. It's not easy to draw him out of it, though I'd like to think we're getting closer, but... ultimately I can't really help him unless he lets me. He did seem to take an interest in Loki the other day when your name came up, however."

He tried to imagine what taking an interest looked like in Bucky’s life now.

“Did he say anything to him?”

“Not to him, but he did ask about him-- the most words we’ve heard him string together since he’s been here. Mostly he just ran away from Loki.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully.   
“I’ll try and get him to talk to me again before I leave. But Loki-- is he receiving visitors?”

“You can go ahead-- Travis gave you a key? Since Loki specifically asked for you, and you’re on the cleared list, you should have no problems. And I can try and find James, see if I can’t get him used to the idea of talking to you.”

Steve stood. “Thank you, Talia.” He shook her hand, hoping that he was expressing his gratitude clearly despite his exhaustion.

He left her office and found his way to Loki's room easily enough. It was the same one he'd left him in when he'd brought him there, and no matter how exhausted he was, his serum enhanced memory was good enough for this.

He knocked lightly at the door, loathe to startle him, and was called to come in, though the voice was noticeably not Loki’s.

He slid his card and opened the door, then immediately apologized. He saw Loki stiffen up, saw the way his hand clenched in the blankets where he was using the high bed to steady himself. But his eyes were drawn to the black and silver contraptions around his knees that linked to the thick boots that wrapped around his ankles and halfway up his shins.

Loki turned and pressed his other hand to the bed, his legs wobbling and his back bent and tensed while he lowered his head. The man who had called out stood behind him, his hands clutching at a brace on Loki’s torso. It was obvious he was taking some of the weight from his legs, and Steve watched the muscles in his powerful forearms bunch, despite how little Loki still looked like he weighed.   
He looked like he could handle himself though, and he probably did this sort of thing regularly. He was very fit, muscles defined under his olive skin. There was only a little sweat on his brow, and the dark brown curls that were pressed there refused to be flattened by mere perspiration.

“Captain Rogers.” The man greeted. “It is a pleasure to meet you. If you’ll give us just a moment, Loki and I were just finishing our first fitting on his braces.” The therapist nodded at the chair that sat beside the desk-- clearly usually the desk chair, but which had been moved aside for to let Loki access it in his wheelchair.

From the vantage point that it provided, he could see the whites of Loki’s knuckles and the flush on his face. Steve wondered if it was from effort or if his presence was upsetting Loki.

“Are you ready to sit back down?” The therapist asked, and Loki gave a shaky nod. “Alright.” The man said, soothing sounding. “The chair is right here,” he pulled it closer with his foot and stamped down on the brake on the wheel, locking it in place. The seat was just nudging the back of Loki’s leg, just below the knee, and Steve wondered if he could even feel it, with all of the gear around his skin.

“Captain,” The man spoke up, “Would you mind giving Loki your arm, so that we can support him from either side while he-- okay.” Loki had a scowl on his face and had simply fallen backwards into the chair, forcing the therapist to hurry to keep it from tipping or spinning to one side.

Somehow, nothing went wrong, and Loki was left seated, panting briefly with exertion. Before he’d even regained his breath, he pulled a small blanket off his bed and draped it over his legs, hiding the braces from view.

“Captain.” He said, no sign of his breathlessness in his voice. His eyes flicked to the other man.   
“Leave us, Nico.”   
Imperious. Controlled. Steve wasn’t sure why, but it made his chest constrict.

The therapist, Nico, looked between them, obviously unsure and uncomfortable. Steve hauled himself to his feet, well aware things should be smoothed over. He had a feeling that he was the cause of Loki’s… whatever this mood was.

He offered the man his hand.   
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr…?” He lead, realizing that he hadn’t actually been introduced.

“Poulopoulos. Nico Poulopoulos. The pleasure is mine.” He hastened to assure him, and Steve smiled tightly, reminded of Coulson, when he’d first met him. His eyes slid over to Loki, drawn up and straight backed in his chair, but drawn into himself as well, refusing to look at them.

“Thank you for your work with my friend.” He told Nico, shook his hand once, and let it go. Nico beamed, clearly more at ease with the clarification of Steve’s relation to Loki firmly in place, or maybe just flustered. New, probably, Steve thought. He smiled a little awkwardly. Nico gathered what few things he had set down and left, stopping on his way out as if to say something, but faltering, changing his mind, and taking his leave.

Once the door was shut behind him, Loki seemed to collapse into himself.

“When you didn’t come, I told myself that I would be able to be up and around when you did return, so that I could gather my pride and walk away from you.” He spoke without looking at Steve, and Steve wasn’t sure what to do, what to say.   
He waited through the pause while Loki inhaled, then turned to face him, maneuvering his chair so he wasn’t straining his neck.   
“It seems I’m just low on pride every time I see you.” he pressed his lips together in a shadow of a smile, but didn’t quite make it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I came as soon as I got back-- Doctor Rivera had left a message saying you wanted to see me.”

Loki nodded.   
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-- I assumed I would see you as often as before, but. Now that I’m not on the verge of death or in possession of magical shards…I didn’t know if it was my obedience that meant you thought you needn’t come, or if my acting out kept you away...” he trailed off.

“It’s not that.” Steve hastened to reassure him. “I had to go-- there was… something very dangerous, in the hands of men who shouldn’t have it. Like the spear, and how you wanted it safe. I had to make sure this artifact was safe… and I had to fight to get it. That’s why I was gone-- not because of anything you did or didn’t do.” He winced inwardly, aware that his tender footing around the subject of the mission meant that he sounded like he was talking down to Loki.

Loki must have noticed, but he didn’t bristle or say anything about it. He just nodded, not looking easy.   
“Doctor Rivera has me trying to befriend the others here. I’m afraid she thinks I rely too much on you for support.” He sounded like he agreed-- or was afraid Steve did.

“I talked a little with her-- I think it’s more that she worries you don’t have any. Especially with my not giving you the time you need.” Steve hesitated, then put a hand on Loki’s arm rest, near enough that if Loki wanted to initiate contact he could, close enough to show his sincerity, he hoped, without causing the poor guy to flinch.

“I am so sorry that I wasn’t here as soon as I thought, and that I didn’t send a message. It’s no excuse, but I had responsibilities. Captain America has a lot of responsibilities.” He knew he sounded a little bitter about it, but he was too tired to care. “I’m working on making arrangements, though-- I am going to be here in person as much as I can, but in the meantime I’m going to work with Rivera to set up a pro--program.” His word broke on a yawn. “Sorry. Program, where you can write me letters, and she will send them to me, and I can respond instantly, or as soon as I have a chance, and you’ll get them from her. I know it’s not perfect but…”   
  
“These letters won’t be private, of course.” Loki pointed out. “And anything I say to you in them may well be held against me in my sessions, much like our conversation now might.” Steve followed Loki’s glance to the speaker system and cameras in the room.

When he’d been approved for visitation, he’d had to sign some paperwork informing him that he would be on security footage whenever he was in the building, but he hadn’t expected it in the patients’ rooms.

“I’m going to talk to Tony about getting you a private means of contacting me.” Steve told him, taking his hand off the chair and backing away.

He didn’t want to say anything to undermine the authority of the house, but the constant observation made him nervous. He could only imagine how Loki must feel, knowing he was being watched at all times, every day. The idea of being forced to go through one of the lowest points of his life, of trying to recover with an unseen audience hanging over his head, made Steve’s skin crawl.

He remembered being weak and poor and thin and sick, and not even wanting Bucky, his closest friend, practically his brother, to see him. Let alone an army of faceless doctors. And especially not people that Loki still wouldn’t be sure he could trust.

Steve tried to put himself in Loki’s shoes, and knew he couldn’t. He’d never been as hated as Loki was, and with that came a fear for his life. At the worst Steve would have been ignored or beat up. Not killed. Not tortured. Not while he was helpless, anyway.

“It would be good to be able to say I could contact you whenever I like…” Loki said thoughtfully, and Steve felt a little weight lift from his chest. But it came crashing back down when Loki continued. “My importance here, the attention I am given, directly correlates to how often your name falls from my lips. If they thought I could voice my complaints to you directly any time I wished, I might heal and be moved to my next facility faster.”

“You mean to say that your current state is because they knew I was coming back?” Steve felt his anger rising and he tried not to immediately worry about Bucky’s treatment, with them knowing that he wouldn’t speak to Steve.

“I have been here how long now? Today was the first time I have left that chair other than to be bathed thrice and to sleep each night and relieve myself during the day. These contraptions have only now been added to my routine, and I have seen only the handlers, my therapist, and been allowed one trip to a common room, to befriend the other captives here. My food has been of a lesser quality than prison fare on Asgard.” He was tapping his finger against the metal on his leg, the sharp lines of it visible through the blanket he’d pulled on for modesty.   
“And now, it seems I will be unable to don pants again until someone comes by and helps me remove them, or until they issue me breeches loose enough to cover these monstrosities.”

Steve felt his eyes begin to itch, the only forewarning he got to tears. He slumped until his elbows hit his knees and he put his head in his hands.   
The exhaustion mixed with how terrible he felt for putting Loki here, for not checking in on him sooner, the weight of his responsibility to this life that he’d saved felt like it was crushing the air out of his lungs. And the worst part was how Loki didn’t sound angry. He just reported it, calmly, detached. The way he had spoken of some of the worst points of his life. And Steve-- Steve had done this to him.

Loki fell silent, and all Steve could hear was his heart thundering in his ears and the sound of his pitiful sniffling as he fought to stop allowing himself to be overwhelmed.

It was his turn to flinch when a hand was laid on his shoulder. He hadn’t even heard Loki rolling himself closer.   
“I am sorry, Rogers. I did not intend to lay my burden on you, or to force you to carry it-- I--” He sounded as lost as Steve felt.

“It’s not you, I’m… I didn’t want to make you wait any more, I came right here from the mission. I haven’t slept and I’m just. Still wound up. Still a little out of my skin.” He wasn’t entirely sure he was making sense.

Loki was silent for another moment, and Steve could feel him looking down on him. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore and looked up.

Loki had actually turned his face away and towards the bed.   
“I know that we have been enemies,” He started, sounding as though he was picking his words very carefully, “But you have watched over me as I slept. I realize it isn’t much, but if you would have a… a friend to do the same for you, you are welcome to my bed.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, and he considered what was truly on offer here. He was too tired to really wrap his head around any game Loki might be playing, any political move he might be making, and maybe not smart enough even if he weren’t exhausted.   
But at it’s basest, this was about trust. Loki had trusted him-- had had to trust him. And he was trying to show Steve that he could be trusted too.

There was no better place to try it, really. If Loki did try to do something, he was certain he would be stopped before he managed to do much harm. Besides, he was still weak, still unable to stand on his own, let alone do anything that would permanently injure Steve. And the longer he looked at it, the more enticing that bed seemed.   
“What will you do while I sleep?” He asked.

Loki gave him a small smile, acknowledging the acceptance for what it was.

“What I have done every day since my arrival, Captain. I will read.”

Steve stripped off his shoes and socks, rolling them together and tucking them safely out of the way under the bed. He hesitated before climbing in, though, seeing Loki’s pants laid out on top of the rumpled covers.

“Before I do… would you like me to help you take off the walking brace and get dressed? I don’t think you’re supposed to wear them if you’re only going to be sitting, and it looks… uncomfortable.”

“It is, rather.” Loki admitted, his eyes going to his lap shyly. He firmed his shoulders, though, and sat up straighter, lifting his jaw as if the posture was what gave him the courage.   
“I suppose you have seen me worse than this. I would be most grateful for your assistance, Captain.” And the thing was that he didn’t sound stiff, didn’t sound ashamed. He actually seemed grateful. And that was what really sealed the deal for Steve.

It took maybe ten minutes of fiddling, and before he’d gotten them off properly, a soft knock at the door announced the return of Nico Poulopoulos.   
“I am sorry, I wasn’t sure how long your visit would be-- Can I assist you in removing them?” He sounded a lot more formal about everything now, and seemed less starstruck in Steve’s presence. He could only assume the man had been talked to.   
Together, they got Loki’s legs freed up and his harness off, then his pants replaced.

“You aren’t to try and stand on your own, or do anything more strenuous than the little stretches we practiced-- no weight on your legs without the braces for now.” He told Loki, who nodded soberly, making Steve believe that they had already discussed the potential for damage if he didn’t take care with his rehabilitation process.

Nico took the braces away with him, and Loki let out a harsh exhale.   
“I shall be interested to see how soon he comes back, after this little visit.” His voice and eyes were dark, and Steve’s heart clenched again at how Loki seemed to expect his healthcare to be taken away from him as part of the punishment that he was constantly expecting.

“When I leave I’ll talk to them. I won’t have you being mistreated, not by anyone, not while you’re in my care. And I’ll make it very clear that you are. Don’t worry.” Steve still felt hopeless about all this, but he put the brave face on. He felt like Loki could use that, right now.

Loki, though, seemed to see through it. His smile was brittle.   
“Sleep, Captain. You have put it off long enough.” He sounded warm, so caring, and Steve thought he must be loopy. Because though he didn’t think Loki was all bad, it was very difficult equating his name with the tenderness in his tone.

It felt like the moment his head touched the pillow, his eyes closed, and he was out.

It was Loki’s stomach grumbling that finally brought Steve back to the waking world. He had at first thought that it was far off rifle fire, then maybe canons. But when he bolted upright, all he saw was Loki’s chagrined face and him gripping his stomach.

“I apologise.” He muttered, and Steve opened his mouth, shut it, shook his head, and rubbed at his eyes while his mind caught up. When it came back, he jerked his head up to look at Loki, concerned.

“How long was I out for?” He asked.

“I couldn’t say. I don’t actually have any means of keeping time, here. I only know it must be past six.” He shrugged, and his stomach rumbled another warning.   
Steve frowned, then realized that six must be when they normally fed Loki. Which hadn’t happened, because he was here.

Even unconscious, he was amazing at making things worse.

He sat up and put on his shoes.   
“I’m sorry, I’ll get someone to bring your-- oh.” The door opened before he could finish sliding the card, and he stepped back to allow the door to swing open. Travis stood there, holding a tray with a steaming bowl on it and looking altogether nervous.

“They said the moment you woke up--” Travis said, and Steve scowled.

“You should have just stuck to his schedule. What else has Loki been ignored for because I was here?”

“Only a restroom break, Captain, please. I don’t begrudge you your sleep. Calm yourself. They had no idea how to react in this situation.” Loki spoke soothingly, and Steve was surprised, since he had seemed miserable here before Steve’s nap.

“Why are you defending them?” He asked, wondering if something had happened that he had missed.

“Oh, I’m not.” Loki said mildly. “I have been treated poorly, and I am sure that meal is nothing but broth and bread. Still, in fairness, you are an unknown quantity, and I would wager they have never had an Avenger fall asleep in one of their isolation rooms with a patient in attendance before.”   
That did make sense. And Steve couldn’t help but sneak a look at the tray-- it was exactly what Loki had said. Which, given his recent inability to eat anything, was perhaps fair, but… shouldn’t they have given him something a little more than that? Hell, nickle diners had served better, back in his time.

“Well, I apologize for sleeping and leaving, but it seems I have several conversations to have with the staff. I’ll be back tomorrow, though.” He raised his voice for the last part, though he was sure they could hear everything he said perfectly fine.

“Return safely, Captain.” Loki said, wheeling himself to the desk to receive his food. He sounded withdrawn again, cold, and Steve knew Loki didn’t believe him. He’d have to build his faith in him back up. Loki’s back was to him, and he felt like he had been summarily dismissed.

He met Talia in the hall.   
“Bucky is in the library. He agreed to see you, this time, though that was several hours ago.” She managed to sound only mildly reproachful.

“Thanks.” He told her, though he hated that she was clearly passing some kind of judgement on him for spending his time in Loki’s room asleep. He knew it was awful of him. He should have slept first, then come, and spent the time talking further, trying to get Loki more comfortable, trying to get things going better for him. He hoped Loki was right; hoped his presence would improve things.

At the very least there were cameras. That meant they had seen-- could see everything that he and Loki had said and done. No one could accuse him of being untoward in any way. That was good.

He turned into the library.

At first he didn’t see him, but then Bucky stood up from the chair he’d been sitting in, so still that he had all but blended into the upholstery.

“You’re late.” he said, his voice rough with complete disuse, and Steve closed his eyes, amazed to hear that voice again, even though he had a few times now.

“I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

Bucky let out a disbelieving snort.

“It had been a couple of days since I slept.” Steve said defensively, falling easily back into the camaraderie he remembered. He watched something in Bucky’s face shutter off. “What about you, Buck, what’ve you been up to lately?” He asked, trying to salvage the conversation.

“Don’t call me that.” He said. Steve stared at him, sure the hurt was written on his face. But he continued. “Bucky. Buck. James. He’s gone, he’s not here anymore. He’s not coming back. Bucky is dead.” He wasn’t trying to be cruel, Steve told himself. There was no malice in his voice. Just a bone deep weariness. It made Steve’s heart ache.

“I don’t believe that.” He told him lowly.

“Then we have nothing more to say.” He said. He stepped towards Steve, then hesitated. His metal arm, the one closest to Steve, jerked like he might touch him, then he angled himself so there was no contact at all, and he saw himself out.

Steve knew better than to follow. Even here, where there was no where to go, Bucky could make himself disappear. And if he didn’t want to talk, there was no way to get him to.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sat for a few minutes, composing himself before heading out to the front desk, and beginning to make arrangements.


	3. Three

His meeting of the childrens’ group was nothing at all like the meeting with the adults’ had been. Where that had been informal, more of him being thrown to the wolves, this was a great deal closer to a group session.

There were no chairs in a circle, no one made to sit or to participate in any group discussions, but Doctor Rivera was present, and Loki couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t the only non-child resident present.  
First of all, the soldier was there as well, this time sitting not in his corner, but on the bench for the piano, almost like a challenge. Loki could feel the weight of his eyes on him, and he twitched his fingers almost unconsciously, reaching for protective magic in a gesture that sent a reminder of his emptiness echoing through him.

The children themselves were few in number, only three, and not all that far off from being adults. Young adults was closer to the truth of the matter, really.

There was a female, aloof, but with wide eyes, bright blue and curious, observant. She spoke to the others, but only under her voice, and seemed to want to stay closest to Doctor Rivera and the boy. She had the coloration and movements of the Vanir, graceful, pale, and cold.

The other girl, who spoke loudest of the three and was apparently named Cynthia, judging by Doctor Rivera’s comments toward her, had red hair kept short, freckles, and an air of innocence that did not entirely match her bearing or presence. She stood, walked, and moved in ways reminiscent of The Soldier more than of the other girl in the group.

And the last one, the boy, was… unremarkable. He was not thin, nor large, nor muscled. He was neither taller nor shorter than average. His hair was light brown and he slumped and shuffled a bit, but he seemed to be the leader of their small circle.

Loki looked to the doctor for guidance when he had taken silent stock of them all, and carefully avoided meeting The Soldier’s eyes.

She was watching him, too, and smiled in an attempt to reassure and encourage him, before raising her voice to address the others.

"I know you all remember I mentioned you'd be meeting Loki today. He's still pretty new to the facility, so anything you can do to make him more comfortable would be really appreciated," she said, looking at all three in turn and even directing a brief glance at the soldier.

"This is Sharon, that's Chris, and that's Cynthia," she introduced them, indicating to each in turn.

Cynthia, the boldest of the three, stepped forward.  
“Hi.” She said. “You’re that Loki, aren’t you? The one with the aliens?”

Loki turned to glance at Doctor Rivera, more of an ‘I told you so’ than for permission. He raised his chin.  
“I am.”

“Are you an alien, too? Or something else?” It was an almost childish line of questioning, but there was something underneath of it, an intelligent inquisition. He realized he had no idea why she was here, what she could possibly have done at her few years to deserve this sort of guarded rehabilitation. What any of them could have done.

“I’m… something else. I was.” He held his hands up, empty and open, as if they were proof. “Now I’m just…” he let it trail off. Not human. Not Asgardian. Not Jotun. He glanced back up and saw that she’d gone stiff, scared, and was looking over at the boy, who was standing with his fist outstretched towards Loki. He wasn’t moving, but it seemed a threat just the same. Loki raised his hands higher and pulled them back from Cynthia, unsure what he could do to look less threatening. He shrank in his chair and looked over at the Doctor.

Talia, who had been following the exchange with interest, sharply turned her attention to the boy. "Chris.” There was a firm warning to her tone, but it wasn’t panicked. She sounded in control. More in control than it seemed to Loki that she actually was. Whatever the threat, it appeared to be based in power that, as far as he knew, she had no way of countering. “A lot has happened since the aliens, a lot of things have changed for Loki, just like a lot of things have changed for each of you," she informed them, though she slowly approached Chris, blocking his view of Loki and Loki’s view of him in the process.

"He's trying to figure out how to live and what to do with his life, Chris. Just like you are," she added quietly. "I promise it's okay."

Chris lowered his hand and nodded.  
“Sorry, Doctor.” He said finally. Begrudgingly, Loki thought.  
Chris stepped around her, then came right up to him, sticking his hands in his scrub pants’ pockets as he did so.  
“Sorry about that. I’m… used to people threatening me and my friends, still. It’s a hard habit to lose.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Not every raised hand is a weapon, I guess.”

Loki looked down at where Chris’s hands disappeared into the material.  
“I have no weapons left to me. But I take it you do?”

“They used to call me Melter. If it exists, I can make some form of liquid out of it, for the most part.” Chris looked like he was bracing for some sort of reaction, playing it off casually. Loki couldn’t tell if the boy was more used to fear or revulsion, but he refused to give him either.

“It’s a worthy power to have. My… my brother,” he used, for lack of better way to explain their relationship, though he knew Thor would not appreciate the title now, “controls the thunder-- or, more accurately, the lightning. He lacks the subtlety of the melting, and simply burns things, sometimes to a vapor.”

Chris gave a crooked half smile that could as easily have been a grimace, and jerked one shoulder in an awkward, almost dismissive motion.  
“I bet that’s not the easiest power to have either.” He volunteered, eyes twitching over to see if the Doctor was appeased by this exchange. Loki could already sense him trying to shuffle away from him.

Feeling a little more sure of his readings on the group, he turned his face back towards Cynthia, who had retreated ever so slightly.  
“Apologies, Ms. Cynthia. I did not intend that my gestures be taken as a threat.”

“I knew they weren’t.” The pale haired girl spoke up, stepping forward to stand beside Cynthia, her voice high and clear and doing nothing to dissuade him of the notion that she was somehow Other in a way he hadn’t encountered before. She reminded him of something wild, the undertone of a growl beneath her crystalline voice.

“When you were in New York, you could walk and you were only a little scratched up on the news when they showed you beat, even though people saw the Hulk whomping you.You had a cut… just there” She moved closer, curious and feral, and pressed a gentle finger to the place he’d bled from, so long ago that he’d all but forgotten now.  
“You can’t heal any more.” She left a small scratch from her nail when she pulled her hand away, and took a step back, mouth set in a smirk that dared him to do something about it.

Talia watched from where she stood, arms folded over her waist, but not looking especially perturbed now that they were moving past the incident.

"Sharon's known to be very observant, if a little blunt about it," she remarked with a smile. "You'll hopefully grow used to it. Sharon, have you been working on anything today that you could show us? Oh, and, Bucky, you should say hello.” Doctor Rivera put a kind hand on Sharon’s small shoulder, and Loki couldn’t help but notice how Sharon leaned into it. The motion actually reminded him of a cat more than a human.

“I’m not Bucky.” The Soldier said from his corner, in a ragged voice and even tone that suggested that, though he spoke rarely, this was what he said the most. He had repeated the words before, would again, and was tired of doing so after the first time.  
“Loki.” He said, probably by way of greeting, or at least acknowledgement. His eyes had snapped back to Loki’s face, and Loki returned the stare, refusing to lose even this most minor of battles.

“Soldier.” Loki returned. The man raised a brow pointedly, but didn’t otherwise react.  
A fine line formed between Rivera’s brows as Loki watched, and he wondered which of the two of them she was trying so hard not to address. He was sure he would hear at least his part of it during their private session the next day.

“Well. Last week I had everyone put together a list of five songs each for me. This week I have CDs with those songs on them for you, and we’re going to take turns playing them. Now, you don’t have to talk about the songs and why you chose them, but I want each of you to think about what that song probably means to the person who chose it… and how that same song might relate to you, okay? We can share impressions after, but save the analyses for our independent sessions.”

Loki saw the heads around the room bobbing.

Doctor Rivera lifted a small purple electronic from under the table where the games sat, and plugged it in, before retrieving what Loki assumed were the CDs she’d spoken of.

“This first one is Chris’s.” She said lightly, and closed the lid over the flat gleaming round. She pressed a button and a quiet strumming sound began, harsh but livable.  
“You have to listen to the first few loud.” Chris said, and Doctor Rivera gave him an encouraging nod and let him turn up the dial. Almost immediately a wave of noise crashed out of the speakers, followed by a full on blast as other noises layered in over the top of it. Loki gripped his wheelchair’s arms in shock.

He’d heard some of Midgard’s music before, when Stark had come to Stuttgart, but he had assumed such monstrous noises were reserved for battles, much like the scores that heralded Thor’s training sessions were meant to drive the crowd to a frenzy, and the drums of war meant to strike fear into your enemies.

This, it seemed, was fair game across the board, for he listened as a man wailed through the distortion about not knowing right from wrong, but knowing love.  
When the song ended, Loki had not relaxed yet. It was brutal, that music, and what he had caught of the lyrics through it didn’t help. The end, too, had had recordings of rain and thunder, and altogether he could honestly say it was an experience that he didn’t savor.

The pale one, Sharon, laughed.  
“I like it.” She said simply, and curled herself into Chris’s side.

Loki saw that despite having been the one who chose the song, Chris looked no calmer than he felt, but also that Sharon’s contact seemed to soothe him somewhat. The girl butted at him with her head, and he slid a distracted hand down her hair. To Loki’s court trained eye, they didn’t seem to be intimate in a romantic way. He seemed to be comfortable with her the way one would be with a younger sister or a pet--

Loki’s thoughts were cut short by a creaking sound followed by another onslaught. This time, he couldn’t even begin to tell what language it was in. Occasional words made sense, but then were promptly lost again. The rest of Chris’s choices, it turned out, followed this pattern.

When they had reached the end, Loki took a deep breath, finding himself horribly relieved.

“Cynthia? What did you think?” Doctor Rivera prompted.

Cynthia sat on the other side of Sharon, all three of the younger members of the group crowded onto the same couch. She wrinkled her nose distastefully.  
“Shouty. You’re not like that all the time, though. That’s only part of you. Fifteen percent, tops.”

Chris reached around Sharon and ruffled Cynthia’s hair.  
“Thanks squirt,” he said, and she made a noise before pulling away and fighting to fix her hair.

“Weirdo emo music junkie.” She shot back, though it seemed more affectionate than offensive.

“James? What are your thoughts?”

“I’m not James. That’s not music.” The Soldier shrugged, clearly finished with the conversation, and probably this entire session, too.

“Just because it’s not what you’re used to doesn’t mean it isn’t also a valid form of music.” Doctor Rivera said gently. But she seemed to know she wasn’t getting any more out of him. He wasn’t even looking at her any more, his eyes trained on the piano to his left instead.  
She sighed.  
“Sharon?” She prompted.  
“Pretty wild.” Sharon said, bumping her shoulder against Chris’s arm. “But you’re steadier than that. You just feel like screaming sometimes, huh?”

Chris’s eyes darted from her face to Rivera’s, and then, inexplicably, to Loki’s.

“I guess.” He mumbled.

Talia smiled.

“Loki?” She asked, then hesitated. “I… don’t know much about music on Asgard…”

“It felt a bit like being flayed by noise. I can see how that could be therapeutic, though. Cleansing.” Chris nodded at that. Doctor Rivera pressed her hands together, almost a clapping motion, but softer.

“Good! Very good. Sharon, shall we do yours next?”

Sharon shrugged and Doctor Rivera put the disc in.

“Now, you didn’t actually have titles for this first one, so I’m not entirely sure if it’s what you had in mind. If not, just let me know, and we can skip it.” The doctor said, before pressing play.

A buzzing drone filled the air, holding a single note for a long moment before modulating into a series of plosive sounding yips. There was a hollowness to it, but also a very strange energy. It felt like the vibrations from the hum were under his skin. Loki liked it.

It sounded almost like some of the more traditional horns, the ones made of actual horn, that were sometimes employed during hunts… but different, too. More brittle.

Sharon’s fingers twitched, drawing a rhythm, all but drumming against her leg. Loki suspected that if she were alone, she would be dancing. It made him want to dance, too, reminded him of the pulse of magic driving in counterpoint to the pulse of his heart beat. Running through landscapes fraught with trees, avoiding those you could and ricocheting off of those you couldn’t.  
It was wild. It fit her.

When it ended there was only a brief lull, and then the next song began-- a single, high voice, crystal clear and pure, not completely unlike Sharon’s own, raised over soft notes, again a pulsing sort of sound… the words were in another language, another branch of the early humans’ speech. He followed enough of it to understand that it spoke of the beast within. A man’s voice followed the higher one, the words growled out over a driving beat.  
It was different, completely, from the first, but also somehow made sense in the context of Sharon.

There was no unifying sound on her CD. The songs were wild and frantic or yearning or calming. The only thing they shared was the pulse that seemed to run through them. Different instruments, but every song had a heartbeat.

When it ended, no one seemed to know quite what to say. Cynthia rubbed at the crown of Sharon’s head and her eyes opened to small slits, seemingly in a state of bliss. She had begun purring faintly, and suddenly everything clicked into place. The girl was a cat. Or very like a cat. In fact-- Loki’s eyes widened as he realized that the girl had a tail. How had he missed--? It must have been hidden in her clothing.

“The German one was good. More… loud. Than I maybe would have liked. But.” The Soldier spoke falteringly.

Doctor Rivera looked pleasantly surprised that he had volunteered as much.  
“Very good. Anyone else?”

No one spoke up, so she pulled out the second to last CD.

“I just wanted to say that if anyone doesn’t like it, I totally understand. But the rec room TV was left on for a history of the Tonys day, so.” Cynthia shrugged.

Doctor Rivera nodded reassuringly.  
“No one is going to like you less for subjecting them to show tunes.”

“I might.” Chris muttered, and Cynthia smacked him with a pillow, moving Sharon in the process and making her stretch in annoyance and sprawl out over both of her peers’ laps.

The songs began and each featured some young girl singing about her expectations for the future, her hopes and goals… they were patently charming, and reminded Loki of nothing so much as the girls making their court premieres, all careful masks of delicacy hiding their strengths. And perhaps that was what Cynthia was-- so far he had only seen the mask, save for the sharp edges in her eyes.

“Don’t worry-- when you’re ready you’ll get to leave, and probably have the normalest life of all of us.” Sharon said sleepily, her words muffled by a yawn. She reached up and patted Cynthia’s shoulder, and Cynthia smiled down at her.

“You said you found these recently… I wonder what you listened to before that discovery?” Loki asked, wondering if there may be some clue to why she was here.

Cynthia looked over at Doctor Rivera before answering.  
“I… don’t remember. I don’t remember much before coming here, at all. Just being here, and so that’s it.” She crossed her arms over herself, sinking in a little, and Loki frowned, realizing this was the second time today that he had caused her in particular to shrink away from him.

Before he could apologize, though, Doctor Rivera held up the final disc.

“Bucky? I found those songs that you remembered the parts of. You ready to hear them?”

Bucky shrugged, an impressive feat when Loki’s eye fell on the intricately articulated metal arm that sprang from, it seemed, around the area of his shoulder. It seemed to not move at all, even the smallest of shocks thoroughly absorbed by its shifting mass.  
He realized that he was staring, though, and had the good grace to pull his eyes away. But not before seeing that his gaze hadn’t escaped Bucky’s attention. Fortunately it was diverted before too much longer.

The first recording began with a whirling sound. There was a clicking and then the song began, somehow more distant and less vivid than the others. It had a croon to it, something throatier than the voices in the other tracks he’d heard, and Loki saw The Soldier stiffen.  
A man’s voice, soft and with a warble to it began telling the story of his love, and Loki found his lips tugged into a small smile at the improbable gentleness of this compared to the man who recalled it.  
The next had that same tone, the far off sound, and talked about some gal, five foot two and blue eyed. Then another song, which wanted to know who told the listener that the singer cared.

The Soldier’s CD was much briefer than the others’ had been, and when it was over he didn’t look as pleased with himself nor as relaxed as the others had. Instead his eyes looked dead, and his brow looked furrowed.

Doctor Rivera was watching him closely.  
“James, were those the songs you remembered?”

“They’re.. familiar. I know them. But not…” He looked… angry, upset, and he shook his head. “I don’t remember.” It was nearly growled, and Loki could feel how wary everyone in the room became.

“Nothing to apologize for.” She told him, and removed the CD.

The room was quiet and tense, and the others’ discomfort only seemed to make The Soldier more uncomfortable. Loki didn’t want to see what such discomfort may lead to, in this man.

“Well, I haven’t any kinship to the music of your realm, but if I may?” Loki gestured at the Soldier, and it took him a moment to catch on before he stood hastily, then another moment before he lifted the stool and pulled it away.

Loki wheeled himself in front of the piano, and found his chair to be lower than ideal for playing, but he shrugged.  
“I apologize in advance. It has been some time and my fingers have been broken and repaired frequently since.” He said it as mildly as he could, flexing his fingers to quell the nerves that he felt.

The keys felt cool and familiar beneath his fingertips, and though he was stiffer than he would like, he still kept his timing and hit the notes he needed. He spared a glance back to the majority of the group, visible from the corner of his eye. The Doctor and the children were watching him with rapt attention. He could not see the soldier, but for the moment he put him from his mind.

He found his rhythm, and though he the songs he knew were better suited to deeper voices than his, and stronger instruments than this, he began to sing.

He could not, with his higher, reedier voice, make the song as driven as it was meant to be, but he instead turned it lilting, almost a mockery of the intent, as he spoke of the worries of man and how the seasons rendered them pointless. Rather than a song about how any one could fight the pull of the tides, it became a joke on those who thought they could. Not that any here would understand it, but if they could, it would be as apt a summary as women pretending to be girls protesting their modesty, as a soldier’s songs of love, of a calm boy’s songs about losing control.  
The only one of them to not have been ironic and snide in their choices was Sharon, and it was her who now rose to her feet and moved over nearer him, to begin swaying to the song.  
But he was so close to the end now that he did not want to have made her efforts vain.

As that song wound to a close, he paused just for a moment.  
“I once was a God, and this was my tribute from one of your people.”

This they could understand, and though he wasn’t sure of the origin of half of the tales that inspired the lyrics, just the same he appreciated it. It encapsulated him well enough, his bitterness, his pride. His disappointment.

Sharon didn’t know how to take this new music, and Loki felt himself growing shaky as he put his fervor into the words, and all too soon it was over. He didn’t know if he should say any more, wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear what here might say of it.

He looked up at Rivera, but she was looking beyond him, behind him. Loki turned, alarmed, reminded that he hadn’t paid attention to The Soldier throughout his impromptu recital. He faced him, certain that he would look towards rage. Instead, he saw tears sliding soundlessly down The Soldier’s cheeks.

“We done for the day?” Chris asked, breaking the spell with his nervous question. No one seemed comfortable with watching so fearsome a man reduced to tears, and Loki surmised this was the first time he had been. It didn’t bode well for The Soldier’s liking of him at all. Loki knew he personally loathed being shown to be weak before any sized gathering, and could not imagine the other being any different.

“Yes, of course.” Doctor Rivera said. “Go ahead and stick to your schedules, whatever’s next.” She sounded shaken, and Loki didn’t move as the Soldier set the bench down again beside Loki’s chair.

He didn’t grace the tears on his face with acknowledgement, but when Loki grasped his wheels to move away, to head back to his room, The Soldier took his hand, grip gentle and warm and that was almost as much a shock as the contact in the first place.

“You play well.” The Soldier told him. “I think-- I feel like I may have played, once. Will you… show me?” The words seemed to struggle free of his mouth, and Loki looked to the Doctor for guidance. She could only shrug.

“If you like.” Loki responded, his mind on The Captain and his promise to return. Surely if he intended to keep it, he would be here already. Loki wasn’t missing out on anything by not being in his room. The Soldier brought the bench over to sit beside Loki's chair, and lowered himself into it.

He took hold of both of the Soldier’s hands, and pressed his fingertips to the keys, the texture of the silver hand not dissimilar to the surface his fingers rested on. He didn’t comment on that though, instead gently depressing each key in turn and naming the sounds they made.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Doctor Rivera leave, giving them the room.

He couldn’t gather enough fear, though, to call himself afraid. Not with the Soldier’s attention so fixed on the sounds they were making.

He was a quick study.

  
***

When Steve came back the next day, he felt a lot better. It was so easy to have a horribly bleak outlook when one was exhausted, but once rested, refreshed, fed and debriefed, he had a better handle on things.

Or he did, until he followed the silent pointed directions of the lady at the front desk into a rec room, where Loki in his wheelchair was seated next to Bucky on a bench, and all four of their hands were on the keys of the piano.

He lingered in the doorway, watching as Loki corrected a finger’s placement and they ran through that set of notes again. Bucky’s face was open in a way he hadn’t seen it since before the war, and Loki seemed similarly unguarded.

Knowing as he did how long it had been since either of them had had the chance not to be worrying about the future and those surrounding them, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.

He backed away, careful not to draw attention to himself, and instead found himself face to face with Talia.  
She pressed her finger to her lips and gestured that he should follow her.

Back in her office, she sat down.  
“So, I take it you saw. What do you think?”

Steve paced back and forth a little before settling into the chair.  
“I’m glad Bucky’s talking to someone, if not me… but I’m still not sure… I trust Loki to a certain extent, I trust him enough to spend time with him, to be around him… But Bucky just got rid of someone’s hold on his mind. Even with just his words he’s got the potential to-- And with Bucky’s strength and Loki’s intelligence, there’s not much that could keep them here.” Steve felt his shoulders aching from being pulled up defensively, and made a conscious effort to relax them.

“Except that Loki knows he needs medical help. He keeps trying to push himself to be better, faster. I don’t think he knows the boundaries of his body yet. He expects to be able to heal like an Asgardian or a…” She flipped into her notes for a moment, “Jotun, or at least not like a human. I think until he is at least able to walk on his own, the risk for their leaving should be relatively small. But speaking of that, would you like to talk about anything Loki told you yesterday? Particularly in regards to his treatment here?”

“I’m interested to hear exactly what your plan is for him. He seems to think he’s being neglected save for when I intercede on his behalf.” Steve leaned forward, watching her carefully, trying to judge just how honest she was going to be.

She pursed her lips, organizing her thoughts, and maybe it was just from being around Tony too much, but he appreciated someone who thought before they spoke.

“I admit that we have been taking things a little slow with him. We want to be sure he isn’t going to cause harm to any of the other residents, so we’ve been exposing him to small, stable test groups. The problem is that for his walk therapy for example, he will need to be in a common room, where other patients, some in much worse shape than he, will need to be as well. I needed to see if he could work first with the trainer, and then I was interested to see how he reacted to you seeing him-- he felt humiliated by his state, ashamed. I need to know he won’t lash out at others who see him that way.”

“He handled me seeing him in his braces with… dignity, actually. Hell, he handled it better than I probably would, and I don’t mind saying so. You can’t hold that against him, and use it to keep him from making progress.”

“Captain, has it occurred to you that you are instantly taking the side of the lesser informed person in what I didn’t even realize was an issue until he said something to you? He has spoken to several other people while here, and each of them has a different perception of the man. We only see what he wants us to see of him-- for you, he projects a silent strength, behind victimized dignity. Does it worry you that he may be playing on your sympathies?”

“Does it worry you that you’re playing on his reputation?” Steve fired back before he could stop himself, but he immediately registered what he’d said, and felt horrified by it. “I’m sorry. I just, I’m always on the side of the little guy, and right now that’s Loki.” He wasn’t sure he could explain any more than that why he felt responsible.

“Do you need me to pull up news footage from just a couple of years ago? I think there’s a clip out there of you comparing him to Hitler. And what about James? Who’s on his side?” She sounded defensive, and Steve tried to reel himself back-- he didn’t need to put her on edge, and he didn’t mean to.

“I’m not excusing what he’s done. But he’s paid for that in ways that… ways that no one should have to. And besides, what harm can he do while under surveillance?” It was largely rhetorical, he had a feeling if Loki wanted to manipulate a situation, surveillance or not wouldn’t matter. He’d certainly come this far without doing anything that set off any real alarm in Steve’s mind, and yet… things were working out really neatly for him. And it hurt to think that way, when Steve was fighting for Loki’s life to be easier, but…

“Bucky still has a gaping hole in his mind labelled Master, and Loki is someone who is used to being treated like royalty or more. I’m worried that the two will fit together in ways that won’t do any good for either of them.”

“Then why were they allowed to meet, to interact? Surely they could have been kept apart.”

“Because Bucky is given wandering allowance, since being locked up… well you’ve seen how he reacts. He chose to sit in on Loki’s first group meeting, or else the first group meeting just happened to take place in a room he was in at the time, though I suspect it’s the former. As for today, I told him he could come if he wanted. He gets along well with the younger ones. And I wanted someone else there, just in case Loki didn’t get on with the kids.”

“So you allowed them to interact, you wanted Bucky to make a friend, you wanted Loki to find someone other than me to talk to. Sounds like you hit two birds with one stone. Obviously watch them, but I just don’t see how worrying and over thinking a situation that hasn’t arisen yet is going to help anything. The Loki that you have here is not the same one that tried to take over New York. Not really. The world’s beaten humility into him, and taught him fear. And Bucky… Bucky had it ripped out of him. Maybe the two of them will balance one another out.”  
He felt like a crazy man, encouraging this, but at the same time… it made a certain amount of strange sense.

He just wished he knew what it was that Loki had that made Bucky want to spend time with him, and wished he knew how to give himself more of that.

 

***

 

“Thank you.” The Soldier stopped playing suddenly, his words starting across the fading notes.

“You’re welcome.” Loki didn’t ask what for. If the man wanted to expound upon it, he would; it seemed unkind to ask for more from one disinclined towards words. Instead, he said, “I think you must have been right; you must have played before, whether you recall or not. Your hands do.”

“My hand.” The Soldier looked down at his silvered palm and closed it like the sight offended him.

“Hands.” Loki insisted. “I do not know the technology of your realm, but when that of ours has failed in the past, for one reason or another, the best that one could have was a stiff piece of forged metal or carved wood. Yours bends where you will it; it is part of you now, as are all of the things you have done.” He could only deal in vagueries for the moment, but he was certain if he was careful with it, he could learn more.

“What I’ve done?” The soldier went stiff, ready for a fight-- or to flee-- and Loki could only look back at him as levelly as possible, and hope that the handlers were close enough at hand that his missteps might not prove fatal. “What do you know about what I’ve done?” The words were low and dangerous.

“Next to nothing. Only that you are here, and would not be if you hadn’t done something.” He spread his hands, palms up, mindful not to direct them at The Soldier after Chris’s reaction. “If I may-- the Captain comes to see you, doesn’t he?” Loki was hoping to discern some sort of schedule for Rogers’ visits.  
“No. He comes to see him. Bucky.” The Soldier nearly spat the name, and Loki winced at the fire in his voice. The other man noticed, though, and raised his flesh hand in a settling motion. “I’m sorry.” He was level again, calm.

“The Captain comes for the you he remembers… but why not pretend for him? He is a powerful man, a good man, and you could make your life much easier by simply appeasing him.” Loki kept himself sounding upbeat, trying to keep the dark suggestion from seeping into his tone.

“He wants Bucky, not me. Bucky doesn’t exist any more. I don’t know the things Bucky should know. I keep waiting for him to realize that his friend is gone. But.” The Soldier stopped.

“But?” Loki asked, cautious and prying but only gently. He didn’t want The Soldier’s ire, but that was the first time that he had heard any emotion at all, in that small ‘but’, and he felt like he would gain some power in knowing what lay behind it.

The Soldier just shook his head, and Loki pressed on, afraid for what this man could do to him, but growing more and more sure that he wouldn’t.

“But you also fear that day, don’t you? Because if he leaves, what will happen to you?” He hazarded a guess, thinking of his own situation. The Soldier, though, just shook his head again.

“I’m not Bucky, I don’t… have all of Bucky.” He tapped at his head forlornly. “But I know him, I have… shadows of memories of Rogers. I know his face, what it looks like when he is disappointed. I remember that hurt. I don’t… He makes you want to not disappoint.”

Loki found himself nodding sympathetically, his mind whirling as he digested this.

What a pair, the two of them. He, who knew too much of himself, and the soldier who knew too little.

“I understand what you mean. Something about him does make one wish to be… better, somehow.” Loki reached a hesitant hand outwards and clapped the other man gently on his back, a gesture of solidarity. The Soldier didn’t acknowledge his touch, but neither did he bat it away. Silence fell, and Loki began to think that was it, and their time together would be at its end.

“I could pretend.” He said suddenly, and Loki scrambled to guess where the soldier’s mind had gone. “To be Bucky.” He clarified. “Let him call me that, remember as much as I could, fake what I couldn’t. But I don’t deserve-- I’d end up making him regret caring. Trying. And he might not try for someone who does deserve it.” For the first time, The Soldier sounded fully human, and Loki imagined that he sounded like a shadow of who he had been.

Loki froze, stricken through the chest as if with the blades his kin forged around their blue fisted hands.  
“Yes.” He heard himself agree faintly. “You’re probably right.”

 

***

  
When Loki finally wheeled himself out of the piano room, there was only one handler in the hallway, and he was waiting to take him back to his room.

Loki didn’t speak to him, too busy running through the thoughts jumbling in his mind. He was surprised, then, to come into his room and see the Captain stretched out on his bed again.  
At first he thought he was asleep, and had to smother a surge of annoyance. But Rogers sat up the moment the door was closed behind him.

“Are you feeling better?” Loki asked, trying to cover his surprise with politeness. He hadn’t really thought the Captain would keep his word and be here again already.

“Yeah, thanks. And sorry again about yesterday. It won’t happen again.” Rogers looked properly abashed, and Loki felt himself relaxing.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long. I seem to have unwittingly become piano instructor for--” Loki bit off the end of the sentence, aware that he didn’t know how the Captain felt about the Soldier, nor how comfortable he might be with two of his friend-foes interacting. It could quickly become complex, and Loki has not yet had the time to untangle it.  
“Dr. Rivera introduced me to a new group today.” He said instead, “And I played for them.”

“I didn’t even know you had pianos in Asgard. Somehow the world seems more… archaic than that, no offense.” Rogers seemed more interested in the what than the who; Loki was glad.

“None taken. I’m not truly of Asgard, and my early interest in delicate instruments makes that ever more apparent. No, Asgardians forge weapons and some cruder apparatuses, but my piano I traded for from the dwarves. They are particularly fine craftsmen, capable of incredible detail, which seems in direct contrast for their thick fingers, but there you are.” He shrugged.

“I haven’t been here long, no. Or, I have, I’ve just been talking to your therapist.”

“Ah. I suppose she is encouraging you to urge me to form attachments to the other knaves here, that I mightn’t rely so much on you.” Loki leaned his elbow on the armrest and cupped his chin in his hand.

“She wants you to be able to interact with other people, people that you don’t necessarily have as much reason to be… inclined to be kind to. Wants to be sure you aren’t going to cause anyone harm if you’re allowed the freedom to roam around the house that some of the other residents have.” The Captain paused, weighing his words, before he ventured a question. “Have you made any friends here, yet?”

“The woman Marsha is kind. And I have had limited dealings with a few others.” He was evading and Loki could tell by his face that the Captain knew something. He sighed.  
“I have spent time with your old friend, Captain. The Soldier.”

“Please don’t call him that.” Rogers sounded upset by it, and his face didn’t hide the reaction he had, a heavy grimace causing his eyes to go shuttered.

“He dislikes James and Bucky and Barnes. So I have been told. The others will not call him anything at all-- I think out of fear. But I do not believe I have cause to fear him. Do you?” Loki felt as though he were balancing on the edge of a mountain. One wrong move, one slip, and he might lose everything.

“I don’t… it’s hard for me to say. I know Bucky. I’ve seen The Winter Soldier in action. But he’s not really one or the other, right now.”

“No, he’s both. And neither. And I think he fights that. He needs someone who does not expect from him answers that he does not yet have.” Loki shrugged, rubbing his fingers, which were sore from splaying over the keys.

“Thank you.” The Captain said suddenly. “For talking to him.” The Captain stood.

“I should head back.” Loki could hear the dejection, the sad sort of resignation in the man’s voice. “It’s a long drive and I have an early appointment with Tony about getting you a phone made.”

Loki watched him leave, hoping that the jealousy the Captain felt at his closeness to The Soldier now would not cause a rift between them. If anything, he hoped it would bring them closer. And any nudging that he could do to bring The Soldier closer to his Captain would be that much closer he would come to escaping from the shadow of his debt to Rogers.

He would have been more than happy to have the quiet time, to sit and stew and muse his way through the spiderweb of interpersonal interactions he now found himself tangled in, but The Captain couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes when one of the orderlies rapped sharply on his door, then opened it without any pause for him to call permission.  
He scowled at the intrusion.

“Doctor Rivera wants to see you. If you’ll come this way please.” It was the one who had brought his lunch, the boy that Rogers had nearly snapped at. That hardly softened his opinion of his manners.

“I will. Though consideration and observation of privacy will garner you more cooperation in the future than barging into my presence will.” He kept his tone mild but his face betrayed his ire, and he made certain to roll the wheel of his chair over Travis’s toe on his way out the door.  
He smiled tightly at the hiss of pain behind him, and saw himself to his therapist’s office, delivering a knock of his own before Travis could catch up.

Talia opened the door a moment later, stepping back to allow Loki inside. "I'm sorry for the impromptu session," she apologized before walking over to take her usual seat. "I felt it necessary, given Steve Rogers's visits. I won't keep you long, I promise."

“I can hardly say it was unexpected, though your errand boy could learn a lesson in courtesy.” He moved to his usual place in her office, then crossed his arms over his chest, aware that he was about to be reprimanded, and already interested to see the form that it would take.  
“So, about The Good Captain’s visits. Did you fear they would make me unstable? Or was there something else on your mind?” He smiled, a challenge, inviting her to blunder into the arguments he had already prepared.

"I'll be sure to say something to him," she noted with a quirk of her eyebrow. "As for Rogers, I thought it might help your rehabilitation if he were to visit. I'm curious to know how you're doing now that he's gone."

“I am sure you are.” This was not what he was expecting. Strangely, for such short lived creatures, humans were overly fond of verbal foreplay, and never quick to cut to the point. Still, he supposed he was one of them now. When in Midgard, and so on, as it were.  
“I have not yet had time to consider my feelings on the subject.” He answered truthfully. “I am...glad, I suppose, that he did as he said and come back again today, but I think I would feel more at ease had he set a return date.” He shrugged, disregarding his own statement. “Still I know he will return, sooner or later. That alone is of some comfort.”

"Good. I think that's a decent improvement from how things were before," she concluded, before sitting up a bit straighter. "I had the chance to sit down with the Captain and discuss your stay here so far. I know you've been unhappy with the way things are run here, though I've tried to do what I can... Would it be all right if we talked about some of the things you told him?"

He felt his face burn hot then go cold, and battled down the sting of betrayal while trying to remind himself that even had Rogers not given away his confidences, they likely would have heard about them from recordings-- and there was nothing to say they hadn’t, but were refusing to say so.  
“I realize my words are not private, regardless of the means of delivery, but if I had been interested in talking with you, I would have. Frankly, I have no reason to air those grievances to any in the employ of this house.”

"Loki, I am trying to help you," she replied, frustration evident in her tone in spite of herself. "But it's very difficult to know how if you won't talk to me about what you need. I know we make mistakes, but if you genuinely believe you're being mistreated, I need to hear it from you so we can discuss ways to improve your situation."

“It is hard to consider oneself mistreated coming out of torture and medical trauma, however I do feel the intent of this house has been vastly misrepresented. You act as though I am to be a patient here, but treat me like a prisoner, without the perks of either position. In truth I am both, but your facility cannot seem to decide where I sit on the scale. Am I to be held like a hostage, or am I to be healed? Do I get treatment and food, or placed in a room and ignored, but observed? Are you trying to drive me mad through isolation and by reminding me of my past, recreating what little you know of my situations, or are you going to thrust me into the company of my fellow prisoners and patients? You trust me enough to be around villains, even children, but not around your doctors. And you say you wish me to heal, but the things which would best aid in that are denied to me. When The Captain does return, you do not know how to act around me. Am I his friend and your guest or his enemy and your hostage? Until you decide, what am I to do but sit and think uncharitably of the hypocrisy of your planet’s care? And am I to be allowed no way to express my dissatisfaction without being called to trial for it?”

"I admit that your stay here has thrown our facility into a state of disarray. Most of our residents aren't nearly so high profile or... controversial," she replied after a moment. "It's a struggle trying to balance what's best for you and what S.H.I.E.L.D. believes is best for everyone. I am doing my best to speed up your transition to standard resident, but there's only so much I can do. And I can’t change or fix things if I don’t know there is a problem."

“And what is it that S.H.I.E.L.D. fears I will do? And how is there any balance? I feel myself being tugged in so many directions at once-- rest but exert yourself, you’re to be confined away from the world, but go meet people, it feels very much at your whim and at your mercy, and at this rate I’m not sure whether to hope for or be afraid of the day I’m punished by having some of this taken away.” He bit his lower lip, recalling Rogers’s words about how they would not punish him by removing his basic needs. “I do not like being in a state of flux. I don’t like not knowing the rules I am playing by, the ground I am standing on, as it were… And I don’t appreciate being told I am deserving of care and then kept from it. Yours are supposed to be a lesser cruel people. And most of all, I do not appreciate having no room for myself. You give me no chance to heal my body until I make demands that it be so. And you give me no chance to try and allow my mind to heal without poking at it. I have no choice, no chance, and no say as to what is best for me.”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but pressed on anyway. "S.H.I.E.L.D...is afraid that you might find ways to hurt people that they've yet to see. We're taking that Captain's judgment into consideration, of course, but even that's not enough to satisfy everyone," she answered. "The things that I have designated necessary to your recovery, the group interactions, the Captain's visits, even your books, those are a part of your rehabilitation." She sighed.

"All right. Tell me, Loki, what do you think is best for you? What would help you most here?"

“The ability to choose when I see people.” He answered promptly. “As it is I only have the ability to see others during small windows of opportunity. If I don’t feel like it, I can elect not to, but I never know the next time it will be offered to me, and there is always the fear of your deciding that I am no longer ‘trying’, and electing to suddenly change all of my circumstances. So I am offered brief chances at interaction that I feel I must take, regardless of how I feel at the time, lest I lose them, and at other times I cannot stand the silence, the isolation. Food, real food, on regular schedules. Enough food to allow me to stop looking like the wraith I have become. A comprehensive schedule and a means of measurement. Even in the cells of Asgard, even in the hands of the Chitauri, I was allowed to mark to passage of time. Here, I cannot tell you how long it has been, when it is, unless my stomach has begun to ache and my mouth to water like a pet made ready to eat. Access to space to stretch, to walk or roll, but just move. Access to information about my immediate surroundings-- or the area I am to be set loose upon, if and when it is decided I may be set loose. I could be preparing for what future is afforded me, rather than falling into stagnation.”

"We can do a clock and calendar, make sure you have your schedule to keep track of a week ahead of time," she said easily. "Our twice-weekly sessions are, for all intents and purposes, written in stone. You can choose when to receive visitors and when to participate in group, though the latter has to be at least twice a week as well. I’ll give you a list of days and times that your approved groups meet during." She paused, obviously thinking. "I'll speak to the dietician and we'll get your food sorted out. Maybe we can move you up to easily digestable blended foods. And as for giving you exercise, you have to understand that I am not yet sure of how you will react under the pressures that physical therapy will put you under. I can’t have you upsetting others in worse positions than you are, accidentally or otherwise. I can give you pre-scheduled, supervised sessions in our therapy room. But the only time I can guarantee you privacy would be at night, after the rest of the residents are in bed. We can move your eating schedule forward to compensate and give you more time to sleep, if that works for you?"

Loki listened, a scowl etching itself deeper and deeper on his face.  
“If you insist upon these meetings, fine. But I am not a small bird, to be fed premasticated sup. I am a Prince, whatever else. I was a King. And I will not have any more of your less than standard fare. Even those who live on your streets feed upon better, when they do feed. Your half measures irk me most of all-- either feed me or do not. No more of the level of fare I have been provided thus far will pass my lips, so if you persist on it, you may as well not waste your time and that of your chefs.” That said, he tapped his lips. “Nothing I can say will convince you of my intent to cause none here harm, will it? I should suppose not. You have my word, just the same, for all the stock you may put in it. If the only way I am to progress in my strength building is in the night like a shameful secret, then that is how it must be.”

She sighed. "You have a human's digestive system, Loki, a system that has to be treated with care for the time being. Your meals aren't meant as an insult, they're a health measure."

“A health measure.” He mocked. “Do I appear healthy to you? Do I even look like anything more than a skeleton surrounded by metal? My body cannot keep itself together when I stand without being encased in your medical trappings. And none of that will change until I begin taking in more sustenance, regardless of my digestive system. One’s stomach expands the more one eats, surely the ability to eat expands as well, and doctor, I am famished.” Something about the statement felt oddly threatening, and he supposed she might suspect he meant to devour her, but really he just wanted to make his point.

"Your meal plan was decided by a dietitian, someone who looked at your tests and determined what your body needed. Maybe you can move up to soft solids but I doubt much more than that," she informed him, shaking her head.

“Ah yes, another of your specialists whom I am far too dangerous to be allowed to speak to. I wonder, how effective can this dietitian's guesses be, if they have never so much as shared a room with me? And what’s more, if you have such a person on staff, who are you to be making such decisions? I want to speak to this person. I am tired of runny soups and bread made of air, which leave me aching and yearning for something to effectively fill the gaping void that my stomach has become. I keep expecting to lift my shirt and find myself developing Jonathan’s spots.” He tossed out the snide reminder that he had done what she wanted, spoken to others-- he felt he was owed this at least, and he would not take her excuses. Health measures, indeed. Were humans truly so backwards as not to understand the concept that if a man is starving, one should feed him?

She'd done her best to patient so far, but it was obvious that she was quickly reaching the point where she just wanted to move past this at any cost. "All right. Fine. She can tell you the same thing I've told you, maybe you'll listen to her. I'll ask if she has time for a visit tomorrow." The ‘Happy?’ was loudly implied.

He crossed his arms smugly.  
“I’m sure The Captain will be glad to hear it. Would you be so kind as to send him one of the missives that he spoke of, alerting him to this development? I’m certain he will sleep better knowing that his ward is being so cared for.”

“I’ll be happy to contact him for you, if that’s really what you want. I can’t guarantee when he’ll answer, or how long before he’ll come back for another visit, but I’m happy to make sure he gets anything you want him to have.”

“Excellent. I suppose, then, if that’s all you wanted…?” He braced his arms in preparation to make his way out of the room, feeling for once as if he had come out on top in this encounter.

“Actually, there is one more thing, Loki. I need you to work on something for me. Do you mind?”

“That will depend, of course.” Loki told her simply, one brow arched in bored inquisition.

“I need you to make a real effort towards not using your words, or actions to manipulate people into doing things they don’t want to. I know that sounds like a tall order, but I promise that just asking would suffice.”

“Why Doctor Rivera,” Loki said, affecting a scandalized tone, “Do you know, you sound just like my father?” His voice and eyes grew hard, and he clutched at his wheels, jerking himself to face away from her.  
“Until next time, Doctor.” He trilled, the title sounding more like a slur from his lips.

The doors opened for him easily, and in the hall he nearly bumped into Spot.

“Heya Loki, nice to see you out and about.” Spot said, and Loki couldn’t help but stare, as he watched the man’s jaw move and the dark hole in his face elongate. It felt almost as if it were drawing him in, the blackness so complete.

Spot cleared his throat nervously, breaking the spell.  
“See you in group again two days from now?”

“I suppose you shall.” Loki said, thoughts dazed feeling and distant, and with that he began to wheel away back to his room.


	4. Four

“Broiled steak of whatever creature is the richest, thick grains, and butter from here to the afterlife.” He said, not a request at all, but a demand. His stomach growled in counterpoint, and he raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Out of the question.” The woman that had come in, claiming to be his dietitian, was shaking her head, frustration showing in the lines of her body. They’d been going at this for some time now, and the more she refused him foods, the more lavish his demands became.

“Out of your abilities as a chef, perhaps-- come, all I asked for was a meal with true meat and other things that need chewing. My teeth are whole, you see.” He gave her a close toothed grimace, showing them off and feeling simultaneously like a wild animal. “If you cannot give me steak, then perhaps ocean shellfish, made in wine and pungent cheeses, served beside the roe of their neighbors and a salad of aquatic plants in acidic fruit juices.” He paused, letting her understand what he was requesting-- he knew he lacked her words for some of the things he demanded, but he did understand that these things were available. “The Captain-- Rogers, that is, my protector, Captain America… would be most appreciative if you did as I asked.” He’d tried insults, threats, cajoling, switching tactics so quickly he had been able to all but see her head spinning. This proved to be the final straw, so to speak.

“You know what? You want a feast, I’ll give you a feast. I’ll make you your damn steak.” Somehow it sounded as if it was an attempt at a threat, but Loki was delighted.

“See? Now wasn’t that easy? You really ought to consider listening more and fighting less; it would have saved us all some time.” He looked at his newly installed clock, and gave her a grin. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere now?” He refrained from directly ordering her back to the kitchens; perhaps had she been a man, but his moth-- Frigga-- had taught him that the cheap, easy insults were the least worthy of use. That lesson may have been many lifetimes ago, but it stuck with him-- particularly when he'd already won.

Instead he watched her blanch with the realization of the truth of his words, and hurry forth.

Dinner that night was magnificent.

He could not eat all of it, for he found himself full quickly, and there wasn’t a large portion on his plate, but the flavors of fatty meat and butter, gravy and rich, heavy seasonings… it tasted, for a moment, like an echo of banquet halls lit by thundering fires, tasted of long forgotten jollity. Home.

But of course, like all else in life, it turned on him quickly, until he was unable to rise to go to his group session, unable to leave the room for his promised aid in becoming more active. All he could do was curl in on himself on his bed and let the cramps roll through him as his body fought to digest the food that it had not, in truth, been ready to receive.

When the door opened again, this time to admit Doctor Rivera, Loki grimaced.

“Have you come to gloat?” He bit out, mindful of the expression that he wore and the sweat that stained his pillow and rolled from his brow relentlessly. “You were right. Surely you are pleased to know it.”

“I’m not pleased Loki, but I hope you’ll learn from this, and listen. I know you aren’t used to your circumstances, but speaking as someone who’s not only been human her whole life, but spent a good deal of time studying human life in general, I really mean it when I tell you something is for your own good.”

Loki groaned in response and curled into himself.

He felt like a child again, like the very first time he had had sweet bread with raisins. He’d spent the night talking all of the less intelligent members of the court into giving him their portions, then proceeded to gorge himself sick on them.

It had been Frigga then who had rubbed his hair and chided him gently. But as Talia settled herself on the chair beside his bed and reached up hesitantly to deliver comfort with a cool hand against his face, he shuddered and leaned into it just the same. Let her grow maternal feelings for him; it could only make his life easier, and make her easier to sway.

His thoughts were derailed by the cramps. He hurt; the pressure was mounting from his body’s inability to break down what he’d consumed. He wanted to complain, as he had in his youth, but pride now stamped down on the words, forcing him to swallow them. At least it should be no more caustic than the things he had already swallowed that evening.

“You should know…” Talia started gently, and through his pain he turned his head towards her to show that he was listening. “Your body is going to have to expel what you ate one way or another. Now, Annie didn’t give you much, insofar as serving size, because we didn’t want to risk rupturing your stomach. Still, I know you’re really uncomfortable right now. We do have some options, if you want-- you can digest naturally-- it’ll be a slow process and basically involves trying to see if your body can break everything down, given the time, or we can give you some ipecac, which will help you vomit it up. I know vomiting isn’t fun, but it will help. Another option is we can give you a smoothie with digestive enzymes in it, to help you break the food down. Now I know you probably don’t feel like you want to swallow anything right now, but the easiest fixes I can offer you both involve that.”

He took a deep breath.

“The ‘smoothie’ will add pressure before it relieves it?” She nodded, and he sighed.

“I would rather have done with it. Bring me your ipecac… I will have rid of this orally.”

He spent the next few hours regretting that decision.

She had offered him a basin, but he had taken up a station in the bathroom, heaving until he felt he’d bring up internal organs, if he went any further.

Exhausted and wrung out, he found himself again on his bed-- no longer curled around the cramps, but sprawled out on his back and dozing.

Doctor Rivera had had to leave him to see to some of the others, and he was left in the blessed quiet and cool.

He knew he was drifting, but between one blink and the next, the face of the Soldier appeared, and he scrambled back frantically for a moment until it registered who it was.

“You didn’t come to the meeting. Doctor Rivera said you were ill.” His voice was gruff but there was an underlying question. Worry, Loki realized. Probably fear that he was being kept away.

“I ate too much.” Loki told him, then flushed as the soldier’s eyes slid down his frame and he looked skeptical.

He refused to defend himself further though, Instead easing himself back onto the bed, this time propped up a little more.

The soldier sat on the very edge of the mattress beside him.

“I assume no one knows you’re here?” The man shook his head no, eyes wary, but face unmoving.

“I thought they may be punishing you because I would talk to you, and not Rogers.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“Not at all.” Loki said smoothly, though his gaze slid upwards toward the speakers, wondering how long it would take them to come in and demand that the Soldier leave.  The Soldier followed his gaze and frowned, his lips thinning as he came to perhaps the wrong conclusion.

Loki didn’t correct him, wondering how he could turn this, too, to his advantage.

“Thank you for coming to check on me.” He put real gratitude into his voice. “It’s… good to know that I am not completely alone, here. I appreciate it.”

The Soldier’s eyes widened, and his face shifted, only in small twitches, but the expressions were there all the same.

“Sure.” The Soldier just said, seemingly confused by the sentiment. Loki thought quickly, seeking to build on the moment.

“I have been thinking…” Loki said. “About that talk we had? And how people call you by names that don’t represent you, and expect things of you based on who they see you as. I thought, if you were to pick a name for yourself, start carving out who you are now from who you have been… it may help you feel more certain of your standing, and help others have a way to relate to you, as something other than Bucky or The Soldier.”

The Soldier merely grunted, though at least he was acknowledging that he’d heard. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but that was when a sharp knock came at the door, and Talia and two orderlies followed.

“Hello James. I think Loki should be alone for the moment-- he’s still recovering.” Her voice had a brittle edge to it, as though she expected some trouble from one of them, but he simply stood.

He turned towards them, and the orderlies tensed, Bruno actually taking a step back before he caught himself, but in that time the Soldier paused. He looked back over his shoulder.

“I hope you feel better, my friend.” He said, and the surprise written all over the Doctor’s face as she stepped aside for him would have been hilarious, had Loki been less uncomfortable.

“You did say I could receive visitors.” Loki reminded her helpfully, from his propped up position on the bed. He sounded uncharacteristically chipper, in an accidental overcompensation for his pain.

“You just focus on feeling better. Would you like some juice or something?” She seemed casual, kind, but he could see her mind at work. She wasn’t alone in that.

He waved her away silently, his mind already turned to the problem of The Soldier and The Captain.

He caught her just as she was about to close the door, though.

“Doctor Rivera? You haven’t told Captain Rogers about my… foolish insistence have you?”

He knew it would be an awkward place for her. On the one hand, she shouldn’t, but on the other if she didn’t and he brought it up the next time Rogers visited, he would have the opportunity to hold it against them.

“No, I haven’t.” She said slowly, obviously bright enough to wait for the other shoe to drop.

Loki nodded appreciatively. “I understand, if you feel that you should. But if you… would you tell him that I’d like to talk to him, next time he’s here… about James Barnes?”

And now she was stuck. She had to write to him, and couldn’t not include the request, because the Captain would be back, and Loki would have potent ammunition if she refused.

“I can’t say I approve, but I will pass on the message.” She told him tersely. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Please give my apologies to Nico. I’m afraid I simply don’t feel up to my therapy tonight.” He smiled sweetly at her, the request dripping with disdain.

Despite his mistakes, he felt like a prince in this moment, knowing that Captain Rogers wouldn’t be able to stay away with the promise of information about his friend hanging over his head.

“Your therapy is scheduled on days you aren’t meant to have group-- so if you’re feeling better, we can have him come see you tomorrow night, and try taking you to the therapy room.” Her mask of professionalism was back firmly in place, and Loki tipped his head in acquiescence.

He slept surprisingly well that night, his hands clasping the pillow beside his face.

When he woke, though, the Soldier sat in the chair opposite his bed, face turned away from him, staring inward rather than at his surroundings.

He sat up slowly, afraid to startle him, but he was very aware and turned to face Loki the moment he showed signs of consciousness.

“You’re used to sleeping in chains.” A disarming non-sequitur. Loki swallowed, then nodded, sure that honesty with this man was the best idea, for now.

“Yes. It’s… a difficult habit to break.” He replied cautiously, aware that he would likely have to address this during his next meeting with Doctor Rivera and already dreading it and planning ways to deflect. “Have you thought at all about my proposal that you make a new name for yourself?” He thought that might be why the Soldier was here-- to pick up where they had left off.

“I haven’t thought of much else.” He said, the words slow and thoughtful. “But I can’t think of anything… nothing feels right.”

“Of course not.” Loki responded blithely. “Every name you know will have ties to a previous life, a different time. It’ll have shadows that cling to it.” He pursed his lips.

“Shadows.” The Soldier echoed, frowning.

“Yes, shadows. You know, you’re a bit of a shadow yourself.” He saw him tensing and pressed on, “I don’t mean to insult-- you slip in here unnoticed and unstoppable, you can be invisible in a room if you so choose. You’re a sort of an echo of many peoples’ ideas of you… what if we were to call you Shadow?”

The Soldier let out a sound between a snort and a cough.

“No one would ever take me seriously again.”

Loki gave him a wry little smile.

“Perhaps not in English then. In the tongue of the Norse who told tales of me, long ago, there was a word for hiding in the shadow of the night-- grima. What do you think?”

“Grima.” He turned it over in his mouth, tasting it and testing it.

“Of course, it could be anything. What do you think? Are you a… Travis?” Loki asked, thinking of the blonde man who had brought him soup during Rogers’ first visit. “A Bruno, perhaps? Nico? A Tony? Or a Clint?”

The Soldier sat shaking his head no.

“Grima.” He said finally. “I think I like it.”

“Well, Grima.” Loki said lowly. “I think the good Captain will be visiting us today. If you’d like, I would be happy to tell him your new name-- as well as the reasoning behind it.”

Wariness flashed across his face, warring with gratitude. There was a long pause, and then a jerky nod.

“If you see him first.” He said, and Loki’s lips slid into a smile that made him, too, feel like a shadow of his former self.

“Of course.” His silky court trained voice seemed to reassure th-- Grima. Loki wondered just how much he had been through, and what sort of treatment he had undergone, to be so hesitant to reach out to true friends, and so ready to accept the friendship of a potential danger. Perhaps it was as he had said before-- he didn’t think himself worthy of the Captain.

Loki felt certain he would prove himself more than worthy of his attentions. Those attentions, however had apparently been wandering; he hadn’t noticed the other man’s black eye until just now.

“Grima? What happened--” he made a gesture around his own eye, his stomach plummeting a bit. “That’s not because you came to see me last night, is it?”

“No.” He paused, looked on the verge of saying something, then took a breath. His mask dropped, and Loki could see the worry that settled onto his face. “I went looking for company, and surprised Cynthia. She was on her own and I don’t think she realized I was behind her. She reacted on instinct… or muscle memory.” He shook his head and spread his hands, wordless. “It has been a very long time since anyone has landed a hit on me, let alone one hard enough to leave a mark.”

Loki felt his brows climbing upwards, almost enough to disappear into his hairline.

“How… very interesting. Is her hand alright?” It wasn’t a dig on his friend’s hard head, but rather a worry about her lack of experience in physical combat. He’d seen young men who broke fingers from incorrectly landing a blow.

“She acted like she didn’t feel it.” He said. “And her form was perfect. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was the one who trained her.” There was some pride to that statement, but a bit of worry, too, and Loki thought he understood. But he would know more once Captain Rogers had come and gone.

If the Soldier wouldn’t speak of it, and Rivera wouldn’t either, he would appeal to the strongest, most human resource he had.

“Well.” He said thoughtfully. “I wonder what the story behind that is.” He tried to keep his tone mild and light, in the hopes that whoever reviewed their conversations may be bored and inattentive.

“If you’ll forgive me, however, I believe it is nearly time for my bath, and I don’t particularly want to greet The Captain smelling of my own stomach juices.”

The Soldier made the small choking, wuffing sound that Loki had come to understand showed his amusement.

“Oh and Grima?” He asked as the man stood to leave. He paused. “Do me the favor of waking me when you come to visit, won’t you?”

The Soldier paused, then nodded. “I’ll knock next time.” There was something altogether unnerving about a smile on a face where it did not reach to his eyes. Loki wondered if he’d perhaps made a mistake, if he’d misjudged the situation, and had only opened himself up to more danger by befriending this man.

He figured he would find out soon enough.

 

***

 

Rogers came when he was eating lunch-- a plate of soft fruits, a welcome change from mush. It seemed that the dietitian felt bad for her hand in his suffering of the previous day, and was apologizing by giving him food that he had to chew, that was sweet, but, he hoped, was easier to digest. Just to be safe, he nibbled here and there, and ate slowly.

He’d had perhaps a quarter of the plate of melon scoops and grapes when the Captain appeared, and Loki was gratified to see that once again he had come out of costume.

“Captain.” He nodded his greeting, catching the dribble of juice that threatened to embarrass him.  


Steve took a moment to appraise how Loki seemed to be doing, and Loki could see him imagining what his condition must have been like when his body rejected the overindulgence. He was certainly sympathetic, which is no less than he might expect of him.

"Hey, how are you feeling? Doctor Rivera mentioned you'd had a rough night, any better?" He asked, and for all his concern, he didn’t try to mask the reproach that found its way into his voice.

“I feel mainly foolish, I suppose, though I am suffering less for it now. Did she also mention my request for information?” Loki struggled not to show the amused exasperation he felt-- he’d expected more contempt and less fondness, really, and the unexpected surge of warmth at the Captain’s inability to be anything other than kind nearly ruined his efforts.

"It's all right, happens to the best of us," Rogers answered with a smile, though it faded a moment later. "She mentioned you wanted to ask me about Bucky. Did something... happen?"

“Only talking Captain, though a good deal of it.” He spoke softly, only just realizing the impression he must have given. Loki’s chest clenched, and he thought it was a complication from the previous evening’s folly, until he realized the pain was emotional, not physical. He couldn’t tell if he was jealous of Rogers’s concern for his friend, or if it called to mind the way Thor surely used to inquire after him.

Still, at least the worry had driven the Captain to return to him in good time.

“I think you will have realized by now, as those who work here have, that, for whatever reason, your Bucky is more comfortable speaking with me than he is with any of those who may be better suited to help him, yourself included.” He pursed his lips and braced himself for any reaction the good Captain may have, half expecting Thor’s offended temper.

Conflicting emotions flickered across the Good Captain’s face, and Loki watched impassively.

"Well... I suppose it's good that he's speaking to someone, at least," Rogers finally settled on, the words reluctant at best. Loki was sure that he had misgivings. It was too convenient that he, of all people, would be the one to reach Bucky.

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Rogers. It isn’t becoming on you.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone, but he knew he hadn’t succeeded. It hurt knowing even the man who spoke the most for him, who seemed to think the best of him, still defaulted to believing the worst.

“I asked to speak with you so that I could know of him, and not hurt him by being misinformed, not cause him pain through accident or omission.” He blew air harshly out through his nose.

“You know he isn’t exactly your Bucky-- not any more. He doesn’t remember that man, at least not fully. But he isn’t exactly the Soldier either. He needs someone who can see him as separate from either. Both, but neither at once. Do you see?” He didn’t know why he was seeking to reassure the Captain, why, even with his bruised feelings, he was leaning forward in his chair, willing the Captain to understand, to embrace the help he was trying to offer on the man’s behalf. But of course, why should he? The Other had shown him all of the ways his intended good deeds, as well as his ill ones, had failed, could fail, would fail… why should this time be any different? He was probably dooming one or all of them by so much as trying. But satisfaction with his lot was not in his nature, and so he would always work to improve it.

Steve ducked his gaze, conflicted. There was guilt there, and a strong protective urge, and Loki couldn’t do anything but wait.

"If he's not Bucky, he's not the Soldier--" It clearly pained him to utter the words. "Then who is he?" Rogers finally asked.

“He’s calling himself Grima for now.” He put the stress on the i, making it long and speaking slowly so that the Captain would be able to understand it. “It means to hide in shadows; a mask. And it may be that at some point, he will no longer need such a mask, but for now, he is too exposed, too many others telling him who he is and should be, without his having the opportunity to learn for himself.” Loki paused, searching the Captain’s face for a reaction before continuing, softening his voice and injecting care and concern into it. “If you want to get to know the man he is now, you have to stop expecting the man you knew to suddenly wake up within him.”

“Grima,” He echoed slowly, rolling the word around his mouth and likely unsure as to whether or not he cared for the taste. “It’s an unusual name. He picked it out himself?” He sounded like he already knew the answer.

Loki smiled, certain that the name was as alien to him as the likes of ‘Steve’ was to Loki’s own tongue.

“He needed a name that was not attached to his past. Either of them. I recommended that from a tongue that he would be unfamiliar with. He knows the meaning, but it carries no more weight than that which he gives it. A clean slate, as it were.” He explained calmly and smoothly.

Let the Captain stew in the mixture of feelings this was sure to cause. On the one hand, kind of Loki to be so thoughtful. On the other, it was Loki, after all, who was close enough to make the suggestion. And it was Loki’s suggestion that had been taken. If Rogers was nervous, perhaps he was right to be.

“Why are you helping him like this?” he asked finally.

“And why should I not?” Loki drew his pride around him like a cloak, sitting straighter and lifting his chin.

“Really Captain, do you think me so incapable of empathy that I should push away someone who appears so nearly friendless? Do you think me so witless that I should seek to betray you, of all people, who has helped me the most? You want your friend back. I want to thank you for the kindness you have shown. And Grima wants a future of his own. It seems only the logical thing, the kind thing-- was I wrong in thinking that was what you would want of me?” The final jab felt extremely satisfying.

The accusations forced a sigh out of Rogers. Loki smothered the smirk that threatened to form, knowing he’d won. He could all but see the reasoning going on behind the Captain’s eyes. Maybe Loki really was trying to do something kind as a way to repay Steve… But it all feels too convenient, that Loki would be the one to reach Bucky, help rename him, make friends with him, even after all the efforts Steve and Rivera have made… It’s obvious the Captain doesn’t trust him, but oh how he wants to.

“No, it’s… If it really helps him, then I guess… I guess it’s good that he has you to talk to,” he said, sounding as if he’s having a hard time convincing himself. “Does Rivera know what’s been happening?”

“It’s difficult for me to say. I know she was aware of our initial bonding-- she seemed to encourage it. But as for this latest development, I thought you should be the first to know, and the most of it happened last night when I was ill. So unless Grima himself has told her, then I suppose she is only finding out through her listening in to our conversation now.” He made it matter of fact, the same way he would have said that Hugin and Munin were listening in, or that Heimdall could see. “She and I are not due to meet again until tomorrow, but I wager she will have some things to say to me on the subject, never you fret.” He was sardonic, certain that this would be the least of the challenges he faced on Grima’s account.

“Well, so long as this is something that helps him, I don’t see why she’d object to you being friends with him and him choosing his own name,” He seemed to be trying to talk himself out of his own misgivings.

“And what of yourself, Captain? You are troubled, that much is plain. I suppose there is no way for me to convince you that I mean no harm, but to be honest, I had thought us beyond this. You have slept in my company-- or do you value both his intelligence and your safety so little that you will trust me around you unconscious, but not around him while he walks and speaks?” He paused just for a second, to allow that to sink in, then he made himself look sad, contrived to look as though this conversation truly hurt him, and lowered his voice to match the downward tilt of his eyes. “I don’t know what I can do to prove my sincerity to you, Captain Rogers. I only wish I did.”

He watched as Rogers experienced another stab of guilt. Here he was, jealous and suspicious when Loki only seems to be doing what he can to help. He hasn’t given The Captain an outright reason to doubt his motives yet, and everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves. Or so he’d said. It is so easy to guess the Captain's thoughts, and Loki couldn't help but be proud of himself for it.

“I’m sorry,” Rogers said, shaking his head. “You’re right. He’s showing progress, I should thank you for that, at the very least.”  

“And myself?” He asked, pressing the point. “Have I not shown progress?” Reminding the Captain that the Soldier wasn’t the only one who he should be concerned about. He quickly clapped a hand to his mouth, though, as if he hadn’t thought the words through, and shook his head. “I’m sorry; pay that no mind. But still-- will you tell me of him, as you recall? Tell me about Bucky, who he was to you. Who he was when he was Bucky.” He would learn more of him, and hopefully, help begin the Captain on the process of truly realizing that that man was gone. That that friendship was over. And that Loki would be the key to building anew.

“Of course you’ve been showing progress, too, and it’s great,” Steve hurried to assure him, but it felt like a hollow victory, and a minor one at that. “As for Bucky, um… We grew up together. I was always pretty sick, and when my parents died, Bucky was there for me. He was always there for me, even after I joined the army and took the serum. He went through hell, was tortured and experimented on… Even after I found him, I could always count on him to have my back, and I had his. Right up till he fell.”

He shut his eyes tightly, rubbing his forehead as the memories came flooding back to him. Loki watched with sharp eyes, gathering information from every gesture, every tick, every quickened breath.

“And then Hydra and the Russians found him, experimented on him again, turned him into weapon who had no say in what happened to him.”

Loki found himself nodding along, sympathy etched on his face and frustration simmering under the surface.

“It’s a sad story, to be sure, but tell me about _him_. What did he enjoy? What did he dislike? What was he master of? What did you do for sport, for leisure, for employment-- the both of you. The more I know of the life he led before, the more I can answer questions he has-- and unlike you, I can do so without the weight of expectation.” He tried to turn his impatience into earnest sincerity.“He may never recover who he once was, but that doesn’t mean he will not wish to know, to understand… and he does appreciate you, you know. It will help him be more comfortable with you if he can know why you care as much as you do.”

“We were dirt poor back then, and I couldn’t do much of anything aside from sometimes have dinner ready when Bucky got home, if I could manage that day, and the odd jobs here and there. I couldn’t do real manual labor, but I did what I could.” Steve replied, his gaze far-away. “He worked real hard trying to pay the bills, spent all day at the docks or whatever day job he’d managed to land that month, then he'd go play piano in the bars during the night, at the really classy places. I got to watch him now and then, and he always seemed to enjoy himself, no matter how tired he was from the day’s work. His mom taught him, you know. She was really talented, pretty well-known when he was growing up, and he liked to make sure his skills stayed sharp, I think as a way to keep her memory with him.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head. “Somehow he’d always manage to get the bills paid and still have enough for the two of us to go out on the weekend, take a couple of girls dancing. Or well... He’d do the dancing. I couldn’t do much of that.”

“So he was right about having played before, then. I thought he must have, with as quickly as he caught on. Interesting. I can’t imagine those who weaponized him would have much need of him as a pianist, do you? Which would seem to imply that, if confronted with bits of his past in a less forced, less strained situation, he may reclaim some of it, which I had hoped was the case.” Loki beamed, rewarding The Captain for his words.

“And yourself, what did you do for him? Surely if you were as much of an invalid as you make it seem, he would have had no reason to help you through it all… or is that where you developed your bone headed loyalty and compassion from?” He tried to imagine Grima as a caretaker, and, considering how he hovered watchfully over the younger ones, Loki had a surprisingly easy time picturing him as the sole provider for younger Captain Rogers.

The thought of Bucky being able to remember some part of their past together was encouraging for Steve, and his smile grew a bit wider at Loki’s words.

“I honestly don’t know why Bucky kept me around all those years,” he admitted. “I was a handful; when I wasn’t dealing with one ailment or another, I was off getting into trouble that he’d inevitably have to come bail me out of. I did what I could to help, clean the house, cook, take care of the laundry, but it never felt like enough to me. Maybe he saw me as the brother he never had, I don’t know.”

Just the thought seemed to take years off of the Captain’s face, the lines of his form growing taller and straighter and the expression he made positively sunny. For another brief instant, Loki was reminded of Thor-- perhaps it was the mention of Rogers and The Soldier’s pseudo brotherhood.

Loki crept closer, wanting to reinforce this positive feeling with a physical touch, wanting to make sure this moment was entirely about The Captain and himself, despite Grima being the subject of it. He lay one hand on the Captain’s arm, and spoke softly.

“Maybe some day he will be able to tell us.” The words were encouraging and the tone confidential and almost conspiratory. The Captain was warm under his touch, and Loki had forgotten again what it was like to have that sort of causal intimacy. It had been far longer than he would like.

He removed his hand quickly, though, loathe as he was to do so, lest the Captain read any of his intentions into the contact.

“I’d really like that,” he answered, finding himself maybe just a little reluctant at losing the friendly touch so quickly. “Who knows, maybe with your help it’ll happen. Not a whole lot has worked so far, except you.”

Loki liked that sentiment. It made him feel needed. It took him a moment to catch up to that train of thought, and he quickly corrected himself. It made him feel more sure of his position. More secure.

Still, he found himself floundering, and his knee jerk reaction was to press his luck and push this one step further, really ground into The Captain’s skull how close they were, and how much Loki needed him. He wasn’t, by any means, returning the compliment.

“Were Thor and I still brothers--” the words caught in his throat and settled painfully in his chest, the truth of the thought hitting him harder than expected, “I am sure he would say the same of you.”

 

***

 

He closed the door to Loki’s room behind him softly, still too immersed in memories and too thrown by Loki’s words to be really able to pay attention to the world around him.

He should go talk to Doctor Rivera. He knew that. But he didn’t want to. And he was tired, suddenly. Tired of doing what he should-- He wanted to see Bucky. Grima. Whoever he was, even if what Loki said was true, and the man behind the familiar face was wholly different. He didn’t care. He wanted to see him.

He rubbed at his eyes, annoyed by the raw and itchy feeling, the dryness that he felt entirely too keenly right before tears threatened to fall.

He wouldn’t cry. That would be dumb. There was no reason for it. He hadn’t lost anything, hadn’t had anything taken from him that at least some part of him didn’t already know was gone.

He shouldn’t have worried though. He thought he would have to make the decision to shirk his duty and seek out Bu- Grima. Instead, he walked right into him.

The strong metallic arm caught him as they hit, his reflexes clearly slowed as he let his emotion get the better of him.

All that Steve could manage was an intelligent sounding, “Oof.”

Bucky helped him regain his balance, then took a step back, keeping him at arm’s length.

Steve wondered wildly whether Buck-- whether Grima had been standing outside Loki’s door, waiting for him. Or waiting for Loki. Or maybe he was just passing by.

He probably would never know.

“Captain.” The other man greeted, his entire body leaning like he was wary of this encounter. Not waiting for him, then, Steve thought, and suddenly realized how tired he was of being called ‘Captain’.

“Loki says we’re going to call you Grima now, is that right?” He approached the subject head on, but not aggressively. It was conversational.

“You don’t mind, do you?” He returned, and it wasn’t a platitude-- he really wanted to know. Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“It’ll take a little getting used to, but I can’t see it hurting anything. I do have a request though.” Steve watched as his shoulders rose and tensed at the words, and he wondered what it was that Buc--that Grima was afraid he’d ask of him. Probably afraid he’d request that he not talk to Loki any more. Before Grima could put that flinch into words, though, Steve pressed on. “I’ll use your name if you’ll use mine. You don’t have to call me Captain. Call me Steve. I know… I know we have a rough sort of history between us, but I do… Loki said I should try and get to know who you are now, instead of just thinking of you as a modified version of Bucky. I want to do that, get to know you. Maybe be friends. If you want.” He felt like he was talking too fast, thought that he sounded like Tony when he was cornered and knew there was a good chance he was going to get a lecture out of it.

“The Bucky you knew must’ve been like you.” Grima said slowly. “I’m not. You can get to know me if you want. But you may not like what you see.”

“That’s alright.” Steve agreed quickly, eager to pacify the other guy. “I don’t have to like it, I just have to wrap my head around it. Us spending all this time calling you… names that weren’t you. I’m sorry.” He told him seriously. “I didn’t want to cause extra distress. I just hoped it would help, somehow.”

Grima stood stock still, considering him for a moment, then nodded.

“I was going to get something to drink. Would you drink with me?”

Steve’s heart leapt.

“Be glad to. After you.” He gestured in the direction that Grima had been heading, and followed, looking for any familiarity in his gait, in the swing of his arms or the way he held his head. It wasn’t there, though, and Steve chastised himself for that. Of course it wasn’t. If Loki was to be believed, this was someone new, different-- and he himself knew that he’d been through plenty, without it holding even a fraction of a candle to what B-Grima had been through.

He followed him through the hall and into an empty rec room, or maybe a snack room. Hard to say; it was almost like a cafeteria, but there was no kitchen. Only shelves of bagged chips and jerky, and coolers with drinks. He was glad it existed, though, because he hated the way Loki was reliant on the house for food, and he recalled how he’d spent the first few weeks of life in the 21st century stockpiling bits of food for later, all too used to running low. He wondered if the other man had that problem, but couldn’t think of a way to ask without relating it back to his former life as Bucky. So he held his tongue.

Grima fetched two cartons of milk from an unlocked refrigerator case and handed one to him.

He took it gladly and settled onto the bench across the table from Grima.

“So I heard you took up the piano, and Loki’s teaching you.” He offered, as a means of breaking the ice.

Grima just nodded.

“Yes.” And lapsed into silence. Steve thought if he held the quiet, whatever was bothering him, the reason he had asked him there, might become apparent.

“You were gone for a very long time, recently. I thought you finally gave up hope.” He spoke suddenly, and Steve flinched.

“No, of course not!” Steve said, slightly aghast while still semi-ecstatic. This was the longest they had spoken since he’d found out Bucky was still alive.

“No, I-- I was sent out on a mission. I had to recover a scepter that Loki originally brought with him-- we lost sight of it a few times and when it surfaced again, they sent me to make sure that Hydra couldn’t use it to cause any harm.”

Grima nodded, pursing his lips.

“Will you do something for me?” He asked, and Steve felt wary-- not as wary as he would have if Loki had asked the same, but still wary.

“What is it?” He hedged, afraid to make promises.

“I want you to find out the story of someone in here, for me.” Grima said, and Steve furrowed his brow. And listened.

After all of this, he was going to need to spend some time with a voice of reason. He made a note to himself to give Sam a call.

 

***

 

The emotional and mental weights of the day were lifted from him by the sheer physicality and exertion of his therapy. As promised, Nico and Travis came to get him long after the other patients were in bed, and bed check had come back with a hundred percent of their residents accounted for. Only then was he taken silently through the halls and down an elevator into the basement rooms that served as the gym and training areas.

Loki could imagine, during the day, the others using this space to work out their anxieties, their anger and their despair. But here, he was attached via a harness to Nico’s chest, held up by the other man’s strong thighs while he attempted to claim some of his own weight and propel himself forward at the same time. He gripped the low slung parallel bars and shuffled a little, annoyed at his own elation at the progress.

After all, what was ten feet when it left him drained at the end of it? What good were a few steps, when he held at most twenty pounds of his weight?

He was afraid that perhaps the doctors were right, that he was healing like a human now, and as such, likely not healing at all.

And the only way to combat the lowness that such humbling thoughts threatened to send him toppling to was to get angry at it. It had always worked before.

He made the trip back and forth four more times before he collapsed, exhausted, into his chair, and was rolled back to his room.

“You’re doing magnificently!” Nico told him for the eight or ninth time, and he wished he could say he felt like that was true.

It was a start. He would get there.

In the meantime, he had several pots cooking, and several more pies that needed him to stick his fingers in.

  
Loki collapsed into his bed that night and fell asleep almost before his eyes shut.


	5. Five

His sleep ended on a sudden note when Grima shook his arm.

“Sorry.” He immediately apologized, backing away, and Loki realized he’d pushed himself upright in a panicked hurry.

“I disabled the cameras and mics.” Grima told him, shrugging as he sat down. Loki stared, alertness not quite caught up to his consciousness or speeding pulse.

“Why? Was there something-- are you alright?” Loki gave the man a once over as best he could in the half light of the still darkened room.

“I don’t sleep often. Because I dream.” Grima had returned to his short sentences, his clipped voice, and his gruff delivery.

“What do you dream about, if you don’t mind saying?” Loki asked, falling into the line of the conversation. He wouldn’t bring it up if he didn’t want to say something, unless he was trying to escape it.

“Things I’ve done. Sometimes people I knew, or people I must have known. Familiar faces I forgot. Hurting them.” His eyes slid away and he brought his flesh hand up to his mouth, fingertips pressed against his lips, until he turned and pressed his palm over his mouth.

Loki didn’t know what to say to that, what to do.

“When I was… held. By my enemies. They forced me to watch a thousand variations of my story as it played out, how my lives happened in every world and each echo. Every time I watched, I saw myself do the same as you do in our dreams. Harm those I loved. Even when I tried to help, even when I wanted to do right by them.” He patted the mattress beside him, inviting Grima closer. It was clear to him that, as private and intimate as Grima had made this meeting, he ought to be making him feel comfortable about being close to him. Not only to build up his tolerance of Loki, or his reliance on him, but because if he could cause a kind of casual proximity to become the norm, he could only imagine how the Captain might react.

“How does this one end, then?” Grima asked, creeping forward slowly. He was uncertain, and Loki felt again, like he had with Rogers at first, as though he was coaxing a shying animal.

“I don’t know. I don't remember-- I was being hurt. I only have pieces, echoes...” Loki told him honestly. “Probably poorly, no matter my intent. But I have to do what I can, don’t I?” He didn’t think of himself as an optimist. He had too much loathing for existence at large and his to be specific to have the necessary patience and blind faith for optimism. But it was a choice between willful pigheadedness or despair, and he didn’t have the time or luxury for the latter any longer. Besides, the former had served Thor so well throughout their lives...

Grima seemed unsure, but he settled himself on the edge of the bed, and Loki reached out through the darkness, his fingertips finding his friend’s cold metal arm. He didn’t try to say anything, having found that silence on his part was usually what urged the other man into speech, in a way even his most carefully chosen words could not.

“What did you do? To come here.” Grima finally asked.

Loki looked at him, surprised and hoping for clarification.  
“Even the children know perfectly well.” Perhaps he wanted to be told in Loki’s own words?

“I was kept… I didn’t have access to news and information. The children were not forced to sleep for years between their killings.” It was the first time Loki had heard him sound truly bitter about what had been done to him-- the first time he’d heard him speak of it willingly and without prompting.

“I invaded your world, with the intent to fight it and rule it, and in the process I killed many and hurt still more. I… am a traitor to my home, twice over, and as punishment I have been stripped of all power and my life and… I’ve lost everything, really. On top of the torture.” Summarized that way, it was all so hopeless sounding. Loki shook his head.

“Power?” Grima prompted, probably sensing the shift in Loki’s mood.

“Seidhr.” He clarified, aware that would mean little to any not practicing it. “It’s an ability, a manipulation of energy. It doesn’t matter. It’s gone now.”

“Is that what your sceptre was for?” Grima asked, words falling over themselves to come out, like he was eager to know something, to have something to contribute.  
“The sceptre?” Loki asked slowly, puzzled how he should know about that if not the circumstances surrounding it. “No, the sceptre was something entirely different. It was a link, a means of communication, with the creatures who funded and coordinated my invasion. It was linked to my mind, and linked me to them, and… when I needed it, linked my mind to those I enslaved with it. Like Rogers’s friend Barton, and others. It let me into their minds, let me learn from them…” He trailed off, suddenly seeing how it could be relevant to Grima.  
“Actually…” There wasn’t a good way to phrase it, and it was of course pointless. He stopped himself.

“Could you use it to learn about me? To see… if there is any of him left, in there?” Grima pressed.

“I-- It makes no difference. I haven’t got it. And if I did, once I’d used it, neither you nor I would ever escape suspicion. I could do nothing more than help you remember, and we would always be linked, somewhat. Just as Barton and I remain… well.” He hadn’t tried to contact Barton with it, at all, ever. Not him, or any of the others-- suddenly he remembered the various scientists that he hadn’t been able to buy off.

He made a mental note to ask Doctor Rivera to tell Rogers to contact them. If they had all heard what Barton did, experienced what he’d seen and felt…

“Those I touched with the sceptre’s powers experienced my torture beside me. And I suppose, were one of them hurt, I might know. With me inside your head, no one would ever trust you again, Grima. I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence while Loki tried not to ruminate on the horrors he was still potentially inflicting on those he had wronged here.

“I.. if you want, I could tell you a story that Rogers told me... about Bucky,” Loki offered, well aware it was nowhere near the same as what Grima had hoped he would do for him, but hoping that it would help, at least a little.

“That… would be nice.” Grima said slowly, and Loki smiled into the darkness before he began.  
He was known as the liesmith, but lies weren’t the only words he was good with. He’d oft bartered services for his stories, particularly on journeys and in the depths of winter on Asgard. He took a deep breath, and began.

“When Bucky was young, his mother died. She left him with little, save her memory, her kindness, and her hands. Beautiful lean, graceful hands. Pianist’s hands. Bucky learned to play at her knee, and after she died, he practiced to keep himself close to her…” His voice droned onwards, taking the rough outline that Rogers had given him and crafting it into something enchanting. He painted pictures in the empty air between them of a world gone by, and people neither of them had ever known. The hours slunk away like an animal ashamed, taking the darkness along like a tail tucked between its legs.

As the little light that filtered in through the window on his door gave Loki more sight, he could see the tracks of tears on Grima’s face.  
His words ground to a halt, and he didn’t know quite what to say.

“Grima?” He told himself that reaching out, that pulling the man into an embrace, was about gaining control over him... but the way the muffled sound of partially subdued tears made his chest twinge proved that he was a terrible liar, at times. Particularly to himself.

He held him and rocked, refusing to use words, in case they became twisted, in case they grew barbs and hurt this… friend. Loki was surprised to find that he was beginning to truly think of Grima as such.

He was certain they must be a ridiculous sight, his slight frame wrapped around the much bulkier one, metal and tears gleaming and neither speaking. But eventually the shakes of his sorrow died down, and Loki was left just rubbing circles onto his back, ignoring as his fingertips encountered the seam between flesh and metal over and over again through the shirt.

“I remember meeting Steve.” Grima said at length, his voice soft even in breaking the silence.  
“After she died, He-- Bucky-- I didn’t have anyone. Scary, being alone. I was going to… to join a gang, I think. Or I was considering it. And then some of them were beating up this… this tiny guy. Thin, weak, but fighting.” Grima sat up to look directly at him, and Loki felt his mouth go dry.

“I didn’t join them. I broke it up. And that little guy-- older than me, but tiny, streaming blood down his face, he grinned at me and said, ‘What’d you go and do that for? I was winning.’ And that was Steve.”

Loki couldn’t speak. It wasn’t the story, it was that look. Was he just a stand in? Closer to the Rogers that Bucky had spent most of his life knowing than the Captain that he had become? Loki let his hand rest on Grima’s arm, staring off into nothing behind him. His thoughts whirled until they became a faint buzz behind his eyes. They dozed that way, in companionable closeness.

When Francis of the morning shift came to wake him, Grima shouldered his way out wordlessly, but Loki didn’t detect any animosity from him. He was silent and thoughtful, but not angry, he didn’t think. And not hurt. Loki let his breath out, relieved.

“Francis?” He asked the attendant, before he could fully react to Grima’s presence and departure. “Will you tell Doctor Rivera that I need to speak with her? It may be a bit of an emergency, but not on my behalf.”

In her office half an hour later, Loki found himself calmer than he expected, or at least better able to play the part.

“You said there was some sort of emergency. Is Barnes alright?” She asked, cutting straight to the quick of the matter. He wondered if she had somewhere else to be, or someone else to see. Likely.

“As well as can be expected. No, this pertains to matters outside of the house. I realized, in speaking with him last night, that if one of them was able to experience some facets of my torture, there is a good likelihood that the others whose minds I shared did as well. Doctors Selvig, Patel, Li, Zhao, Bautista… everyone who could not be hired. Someone should track them down, explain to them what it was that they-- that they heard, or felt, or saw.” He shifted his gaze, focusing instead on a cup of pens on the desk behind her.

“I’m a little surprised at your concern and consideration for them. Have you changed your mind about the relative importance of humans?”

Loki scoffed, drawing up and into himself.  
“Hardly. Your lifespans are the same inconsequential ripples they have ever been. However, I have been reconsidering my own inconsequential state, now. And while I am not elevating your kind, if I am truly lowered to being one of you… some mind must be given to those who are now my peers. I would hardly want them to try and seek me out, looking for answers that cannot be given.” He spread his hands, trying to sound as reasonable as possible.

“Of course.” She nodded, tapping at her tablet. “I can contact Steve Rogers for you, if that’s what you want? Alert him to the situation?”

“Actually,” and here was where the uncertainty came in, “I think it would be best to contact Agent Barton. He has… first hand experience, and it was he who first spoke of the problem. There is no doubt in my mind he would be the best man to do this job, though it is of course his prerogative to turn it down.” He found his fingers lacing together so that he could twist them, and he put them down into his lap to keep from doing so.

“I’ll see what I can do-- I think we have some contact info for him on file.” Rivera peered at him and pursed her lips before continuing.  
“May I ask you a question, though, Loki?”

Loki waved his hand, imperiously and silently demanding that she get on with it.  
“You don’t have to answer me now, or ever, if you don’t want. But I want you to think about why you always feel the need to justify caring or doing something good with selfish motives. I don’t think they’re actually motives, are they? More like afterthoughts. Think about why you need them, why you can’t just accept that you are doing something kind for the sake of it.”

“Because,” Loki said slowly, speaking as if to a particularly ignorant child, “I am a bad person.”

Rivera simply shook her head and tapped the tablet.

“Alright then, if you won’t consider that one, will you tell me about last night?” She changed topics quickly enough that it felt nearly seamless.

“He had a nightmare and wanted some company.” He said simply. Truth, and really all that she needed to know.

“Francis said you were in bed together, and when we checked our recordings, they’d been turned off.” She told him, tone bland and carefully non judgmental, but he heard it just the same.

“A charming implication, Doctor Rivera, but how do you comfort a friend? I cannot stand, and unless you’d have preferred Francis walk in to find him on my lap in the chair…” Loki trailed off, inwardly wincing at the idea of that much weight on his too thin legs. “Besides. I was asleep until he woke me.” He shrugged.

"Were you able to comfort him, then?" she asked, the same mildness to her tone. "Nightmares can really shake up a person, do you think you were able to help?”

“He needed to talk; I let him. I told him a story. And when he left he seemed relaxed, a little more at peace. I’ve not got your qualifications, Doctor, but I am not completely inept. I was a brother, after all.” He said it all simply, not overly eager to divulge more. He was certain anything he said would be seen only through eyes of suspicion at this point, as should probably be the case.

"Was there a particular story you told him?" she pressed, sounding more interested now. "One you created yourself or heard elsewhere?"

“Oh, one the Captain told me. He had wondered, you see, how he knew about playing piano. I knew he wouldn’t ask Rogers, so I did. He wanted answers and I gave them to him.” He felt defensive about it, didn’t want to tell her the story itself, because it didn’t feel like his story to tell. Not to anyone not involved.

"I see," she hummed, fingers tapping absently against her forearm. "You say you consider him a friend... Close relationships are rare for you, has it felt all right so far?"

“I didn’t come for you to attempt to pick apart my interactions with Grima. I came to ask that you help me help others whom I have wronged. I answered your questions in regard to another of your patients’ well being. But if I were interested in discussing with you my time with him, I would say as much. I have not. I am not.” Loki was firm about it, neither raising his voice nor changing his tone.

"And I will, of course, but you can't fault me for attempting to do my job," Talia answered with a quirk of her brow. "Interpatient relationships are always monitored for reasons that I'm sure I don't need to explain to you."

“And I suppose it is only professional interrogation that leads to your questioning my sexuality and whether or not I am taking advantage of our closeness? Doubtless your reports tell you that I am equipped as humans are, but who knows-- Thor is a well recorded ladies’ man, even here, and my being his opposite always… tell me, what do customs of your world say of men who lie with others of their sex?” He could feel himself sliding into snideness.

"It depends on which part of the world, I suppose," she answered lightly. "We've made good strides in this one, and I'm not in the habit of casting judgment on my patients for who they're attracted to." Her gaze turned sharp then. "However... If a friendship between residents has the potential for any adverse effects on their treatment, I have an ethical obligation to intervene."

“And you think my growing closer still to Grima would have adverse effects?” He prompted, a small challenging grin splitting his lips. “Do tell, please-- I am curious how our becoming physically intimate would hurt him.”

"You're the first person he's had any sort of close connection with since he was captured and weaponized by Hydra," she began. "His memories still carry large gaps, and there's a good chance that he has no way of remembering what is or isn't a healthy relationship with another person. It's great that he's learning to make friends, but intimacy with another person at this point in his rehabilitation might be a formative experience that could have adverse effects on his emotional well-being. It's why we monitor these situations so closely."

“Of course. How typical, that he should come first. But is it professional decorum or a misguided sense of kindness that led to your failure to mention that were it anyone else here but me, you would feel differently?” He paused for only a second; hardly long enough for her to gather her thoughts, let alone speak.  
“Well rest easy, Doctor. I’ve no intent of seducing your favorite patient. Yet.”

“Now that is simply not true,” she replied, breathing a tired sigh as she gripped the bridge of her nose. “If you think this is the first time something like this has happened, you’d be wrong. Meanwhile, you asked me of adverse effects for him, not you. It’s true that while you seem more comfortable in your mind than he is at the moment, I wouldn’t recommend doing something that could jeopardize one of the rare friendships you’ve made here on earth. He’s as much a part of your support system as you are of his, Loki.”

“Yes, I am certain you run across this exact problem all the time. Tell me, Doctor, does it scare you, his and my closeness? Do you worry that more than our support systems will be destroyed, the longer we spend together?” He hissed it with all the tone and intent of a threat.  
“I may be stuck here, powerless, human, healing, and bound to your rules by my debt to The Captain, but I am still Loki, and I have ever done as best suits me. Little you say or think or do can change that, and though we may be in your domain, there is very little you can do to stop us. Captain Rogers has no objection to our friendship, so no morals restrain me on that font. You can keep me confined, but as he’s shown, Grima can walk through locked doors and speak without you hearing, like that shadow that is his namesake. The more you act against me, the closer the two of them will draw to my defense, and the more you try and keep me apart, the less time I will spend alone.” He tossed her a smug smirk and sat back in his chair, with the air of someone who had just declared a check mate after a game of what seemed to be nothing but losses. “If I want to sleep with Grima, I will. Try and stop me.”

The look she leveled at him was equal parts exasperated and incredulous. "I can't imagine Captain Rogers wouldn't have his own reservations about what you've just said," she remarked. "Look, if you actually care about either of them and not just doing whatever best suits you, at the very least please keep what I've said in mind. Contrary to what you might think, I do want what's best for all of my patients."

“I have no doubt there would be reservations. Shame you have no proof of it-- this room being one of the few in the house without recording capabilities. And in a trial of your word against mine, you have raised concerns in the past to all involved about my budding friendship with James Barnes. And I-- well. What harm can an invalid do?” He gave her his best, most innocent face. “Who I care for and how is private, to me, and though you and your people are careful to invade every facet of life here, you will keep to yourself on these matters. I intend no harm, but lying is my job, and I go out of my way not to make liars of those around me. Naysay me, and you will see every fear you may have become flesh-- and then some.”

She released a slow breath, the only other reaction to his threats aside from the wariness in her eyes. "I'll be sure to contact Clint Barton and let him know your suggestion to find others who were affected. I'm sure he'll be interested in finding some way to help," she said, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders as she wrapped up the conversation.

“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your cooperation.” He turned his voice civil and mild, carefully mimicking her posture. “I will see you in group tomorrow, then.”

 

The next day, there was a large group gathering of all of the people Loki had met so far in the house, ostensibly because it was Cynthia’s birthday. Loki wasn’t entirely sure why he had been brought out for it-- He had no gifts to give, couldn’t drink to her health or partake in the feast to celebrate her future. He couldn’t even stand to look at the food, the pastry piled high and the cream whipped into cloud formations. The smell of cooked meat had made his stomach lurch, coming in the room, and eating his mush while the others bit into hamburgers felt like admitting defeat. He saw their stares, and stared back, challenging them to ask about his diet, his weight, his weakness.

He was unsure of himself around them, being so markedly different, in his chair, in his pallor and his thinness, and when they began to sing, voices droning in a simple song they all seemed to know, he stayed silent. He felt obvious, markedly alien, and he supposed the scars on his back hadn’t been needed after all. Wouldn’t Odin feel foolish if he could see him now?

He could feel the bitter tears threaten and he found himself glaring at Doctor Rivera, silently blaming her for his discomfort.

But Grima stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder, and with a gentle squeeze and a tilt of his head, he drew Loki’s gaze towards where Cynthia was cutting into her cake. It took Loki a moment to understand what he was meant to be looking at. She was laughing, freckles on her face disappearing in the stretch lines as her mouth tilted upwards. But that wasn’t it; Grima had no interest in the more juvenile of her traits. Then he saw the way her hands moved while her mind was distracted by her friends.

Her grip on the knife was not that of someone who was used to chopping vegetables. She kept having to readjust as her hand curled around it at the balance point, as though she was far more accustomed to throwing blades than serving with them. Loki couldn’t help but frowning. First, because she only seemed to realize what she was doing wrong when her attention shifted back to her task, and second because she simply readjusted her hand without thinking and carried on with it, until she was distracted again, and her grip shifted back. He wasn’t versed in memory or that of muscles, but something seemed off about it.

Loki only realized their mistake when he saw Doctor Rivera approaching. She had her placid smile in place, but her eyes were hardened with suspicion.

“I suppose cake is out of the question, isn’t it?” Loki asked, heading her off before she had quite reached them. Grima turned to look, surprised, then huffed.

“You’re going to get sick again. We just started learning Passacaglia.” Loki looked at Grima with surprise, unused to hearing him speak so many words while around others. He wondered if maybe he was more right than he’d thought about renaming him. Or if he was perhaps just benefiting from having a friend-- or only comfortable speaking as a cover for these circumstances. Unlike the Captain, who trusted him not at all, but whom he could read plainly, Grima trusted him perhaps too much, and yet Loki did not know his mind well enough to form a solid idea of what was going on in the minds of those around him, but he knew better than to show it.

“I would definitely advise against it.” Doctor Rivera said, her eyes shifting back and forth between them. “Though the good news is we’ve had some meetings, and you’re going to start having easy to digest but much more real foods. You should feel better about the actual process of eating, now that it involves actual chewing. And there is a bowl of grapes over there with your name on it.”

Loki tried not to feel pacified by this offering, but it was nice just the same. And if it got her attention off of them watching the children, so much the better.

“Thank you. I will have some soon, once everyone has been given their slices.” He was dismissing her, and the crook of his brow dared her to do anything about it.

She didn’t, seemingly satisfied, or at least less concerned. Loki turned his eyes back on the birthday girl, and saw that Dr. Rivera wasn’t the only one who had noticed his watchfulness. Chris was hovering around her, glaring his way, and when Loki didn’t immediately see Sharon, he began looking around, half expecting that she might pounce on him in retaliation for his interest in their friend.

But when he found her, she was sitting on a couch having her hair finger combed by Marsha, her eyes closed and her body swaying slightly in a state of bliss, while Marsha and Maynard and Spot had a conversation around her.

The easiness of all of these people made him feel again like the outsider, though it helped to know that Grima was with him there, the two of them the only people who were not happy to simply mingle and enjoy themselves. But he also knew they’d drawn too much attention. Perhaps mingling would help. It would certainly please Doctor Rivera, which wasn’t a bad thing, so far as Loki was concerned.

He reached out and touched Grima gently to get his attention.  
“When they give out cake, bring me a small slice, won’t you?” He gave the request with an accompanying grimace, which seemed to communicate plenty to the other man. He was already imagining the pain that would follow, but it was worth it to hide their interest in the girl.

Grima raised an eyebrow, but nodded just the same, and Loki wheeled himself away from him without another word, seeking out Tilda and Melina, where they sat speaking with Curtis.

“Does every birthday here receive such pomp?” he asked, thinking back to the feasts of the past that had been held in his honor, and breaking the silence that descended when he joined their group. Tilda and Melina exchanged a glance.

“I think the majority of us opted out of it.” Curtis explained. “For the kids, it’s something important, but for us, you know, once you reach a certain age…” He shrugged and let his statement hang, and Loki, feeling a bit restless, decided to push.

“Tell me, do you tend to think more about the years you’ve already spent, or those yet ahead of you, on such occasions? Is it a reminder of how old you are, or how little time remains?”

Melina scowled at him and muttered something in her native tongue.

“A little of both, I’d guess.” Tilda said frankly, turning her head to glare a warning at the Russian woman. “You’ll get the hang of it. Don’t worry. When is your birthday, anyway?”

Loki smiled thinly.  
“I was raised on a planet that does not share your calendar, and born and abandoned on another besides that-- I don’t know when my true birth date is, only that in Asgard we celebrated before the Equinox in Einmánuður.” He shrugged. “It matters little, though.”

Tilda was staring at him, her head tilted and her expression calculating.  
“Do you have any idea how old you are, here?” She asked.

“I’m to be 1050 this year, in theory.” He said softly. He could feel the helpless sorrow at his short years creeping in again, and turned to look at Cynthia with her friends, at the way her hair now hosted a clump of the icing that seemed to have migrated there from her face. Chris stood beside her, looking proud, his fingers in his mouth, completely oblivious to the way Sharon was creeping up behind him.

It was a youthful scene, something he would not expect from those in Asgard with an equivalent of these childrens’ ages, but then, even Rivera wasn’t stopping them.

“It’s good they get to have some kind of a childhood.” Spot spoke suddenly from beside him, and despite the way his face displayed no emotion, Loki could hear the wistfulness in his voice. “They’ve seen and done so much already… Most of the rest of us didn’t even get to start on this path until we were adults, most of us got to choose… Melina excepted, of course. They deserve some happiness when they can get it.”

“Do you suppose you don’t?” Loki asked, and Spot just shook his head no, his face impassive as ever. Loki couldn’t read that, but he didn’t seem to need to.

Loki wondered if he could argue that he deserved the same, despite his life already having outstripped the combined years of everyone in this building.

He remembered all of the things he had been told he deserved, voices listing off punishments, ways he ought to have died. His birthright was death, just as Odin had said. He deserved very little… but he demanded much to compensate.

He’d taken advantage of the momentary distraction that the kids had caused, but Tilda quickly brought the attention back to Loki.

“If you’re that old already, how old do your people normally get?”

“Difficult to say. I don’t know much of my true species, only the aging process of my adoptive one.” He shrugged, entirely sidestepping the question, unwilling to think of the stories that claimed that Laufey had existed at the dawn of the first breath of the world’s tree. If so, how many more years than anticipated had he lost to Odin’s ire?

Martha let out a low whistle from where she sat near the group, apparently having listened in.  
“I didn’t know-- I figured you guys just had traditional names. So you really are the Loki people worshiped, back in the day?”

Loki fixed a sneer to his face, pretending indignation to pull himself away from the edge of upset.  
“What do you mean, ‘back in the day’? I’m worshiped now.” He shifted his eyes quickly towards Grima, letting them take his meaning. He was establishing himself as powerful, despite his weak frame-- his power in the form of his hold on the other man, one who could do the lifting for him. Even though he did not feel so secure in their bond just yet to ask Grima for anything, he knew that, for now, he was still the shiny new toy, and Grima would step in to save his friend if he thought things were going poorly.

Loki had half a mind to test that theory by seeing to it that they did, but he had just begun to make headway on his physical therapy, and he didn’t want to lose the privilege.

“Listen, Godling.” Melina spoke, her accented voice rolling and dripping with scorn. “Whatever you may think of Barnes, he was made by the people who made me-- and you should beware. He finds use in you now, but do not make an enemy of him. We learn very quickly not to form bonds, or to be willing to sever them if necessary.” She spoke quickly, her voice low and her eyes aimed at Grima’s broad back, where he was accepting plates with cake piled on them. She broke off her speech and simply turned her head away when Grima began to approach them. The rest of the group was migrating this way as well, theoretically to be at least near the table while eating.

“Just icing,” He said, handing him a plate. “For dipping your fruit in.”

“Thank you Grima.” Loki told him, eyeing the rest of the group to see how they reacted to the name. Martha was the only one whose surprise was apparent, the rest of them seemingly better schooled in hiding their feelings.

The children joined them, each of their hands bearing a plate with cake, and an attendant with the rest.  
The food was passed out, and conversation lulled in favor of the dessert.

Afterward, Loki claimed that the food had exhausted him, and asked to be allowed back to his room.

Once there, he pulled himself onto the bed and lay back, eyes closed, faking sleep while his mind whirled with thoughts. He heard his door open but tried not to respond, holding his peace and waiting for whomever had been sent to check on him to go away.

Instead he heard shuffling steps and then the door closing behind the person. He sat up, instantly alert, lest anyone manage to sneak up on him now while he was weak, unarmed, and the rest of those present were otherwise occupied.

The Captain stood just inside the door, his hands raised and a look of regret already settling onto his face. His hands were not empty, though-- there was a small shining red box clenched in his right one.

“Captain.” Loki greeted, dropping his guard immediately.

“Hey Loki. Doctor Rivera said you had needed to get in touch with Barton for a semi-emergency… I thought maybe now would be a good time for you to have this.” He could see the curiosity in the Captain’s face when met with Loki’s relaxed demeanor, but he didn’t seem like he intended to address it, which was fine. Loki wanted him to think that that was his natural reaction to Rogers’ presence; it implied trust.

“And what, exactly, is this?” He asked languidly, pulling a pillow under him to prop himself up with.

“It’s a phone, a Stark phone. It’s just to call me-- no one else has the number, and there’s no other contacts or dialing mechanisms to it. But with it you can send me texts-- short letters-- anytime. And you can call, and if I can speak right then, I’ll answer. If not, I'll call you back as soon as I can.”

“And with this, I will be able to speak frankly to you textually, without being overheard or overseen by my handlers.” Loki stated blandly, amusement dancing on his lips. “Captain, how very touching. Thank you.” He held his hand out for it, every bit as docile as a house cat.

“I have a request, though.” Rogers cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“What would you like me to tell Grima for you, Captain?” Loki’s voice took on an edge, put there intentionally, and he withdrew his hand with a grimace. He registered the very real twinge in his chest, but elected to ignore it. He could weaponize anything, including his own hurt, so long as he mastered it. He glared at the man across from him.

“You don’t have to tell him anything!” Rogers hastened to assure him, apparently unsure of the reason for the change in Loki’s mood.

Loki remained silent, appearing wary now, though inwardly he was enjoying this.

“I was just hoping you would give him this for me.” The Captain said, pulling a second Stark phone from his pocket.

“Of course, Captain.” Loki spoke snidely and turned his face away, but held his hand out just the same.

Rogers sat the phones gently into Loki’s grasp, and then, when Loki refused to speak, he shuffled his feet for a moment.

“Do you want me to show you how to use them? That way you can show Grima and--” Loki thrilled at how hopeful the Captain sounded. Good. Time to dash that and remind him of the game being played.

“Really, Captain? He hardly speaks to you when you’re here-- why should he bother when you aren’t? When he has me to speak to? And you are strangers-- I don’t think it’s made it into your head yet. You do not know him. Why should you gift him with this? Why should he accept it?” His words were cold and calculated to cut deeply.

“Loki, why are you so upset? I didn’t mean-- if you think it'll offend him--” Rogers seemed to be grasping at straws, trying to find the right thing to say.

“It offends me, Captain!” Loki spat, sitting up and swiveling so that his feet pointed at the floor. “Is everything you do-- everything you’ve done for me-- motivated by your feelings for him? I am not a stand in, or a go between, or a shadow. I am not your fix for your lost friend. I can’t bring your Bucky back to you, and I don’t know if I would even if I had the power to!” He began stalking towards Rogers, steps slow and heavy not only with his weakness, but with the intent he put behind them. “If that is all you want of me, you may as well let your SHIELD kill or imprison me as they have wanted to ever since I arrived.” He had worked himself into a frenzy real enough to cause the alarms to go off outside of his room, and several day nurses, as well as Doctor Rivera, to come running.

Rogers stood, slack jawed and horrified, looking on as he wobbled, free standing and no doubt wild looking, his hair gone greasy and slumping in his face, his mouth thin and eyes angry. He must look a fright, all sharp angles and bones pulling at his skin, but he was alive, he was furious, he was standing on his own two feet, and he was elated. He hadn’t felt this fully himself in a long time. He felt somehow victorious, if only briefly, and as his knees buckled, it wasn’t the Captain who caught him.

“You should leave.” Grima’s voice said from above him, the words vibrating through his chest, where Loki’s face had ended up buried as he was caught.

Loki snuck a glance outward to take in the expressions of those gathered-- the tableau one of confusion and fear, Doctor Rivera seemingly concerned, Rogers looking stricken, the nurses unsure what to do. It would have been complete, if not for Sharon, who had managed to squeeze between the handlers, seemingly unruffled and staring him dead in the face, her head cocked quizzically.

Grima, though, was ignoring them, and had turned his back to the door, lifting Loki easily as though he were no more than a doll, and laying him on his bed as gently as if he were spun glass.

Grima pressed a hand to the side of Loki’s face, making it so that he could not turn his head back to look at those beyond them. Loki thrilled at how intimate this setting seemed, how cared for he appeared to those looking.

“What happened?” Grima asked softly, as though there were none around to hear.  
Loki wasn’t sure how to play it now, angry or victimized. He realized he was tired-- bone-tired, having pushed his body beyond what it was really ready to be doing.

“He brought you something.” Loki said as dully as he could, gesturing at the phones he’d dropped on the bed upon his return to it. “So you can contact him whenever you like.”

Grima lifted it in his metal hand, and for one wild moment, Loki thought he might crush it with the power that lay in that fist. Instead, Grima turned back to the door, obviously unsurprised to see the Captain unmoved and Rivera looking on, despite the rest of them having cleared out.

“I would like to speak with you.” Grima said simply, straightening from Loki’s side and drawing up to his full height. “Will you be alright, Loki?” He asked. Loki nodded, allowing his eyes to drift closed.

“Tired.” He said softly, and Grima smoothed his hair back off of his face.

“Sleep.” He said simply, and left, taking the others along with him. Loki waited until the door had closed, then reached out blindly until he had grasped his own Stark phone in his fist. He shoved both under his pillow, but held onto it like a lifeline while he let himself rest.

He deserved it.

  
***

  
“Doctor Rivera, would it be possible for Ca- for Steve and I to speak privately in your office?”

If Steve had been expecting anything, it wasn’t that. He’d been tensed since Bucky had ushered them out of Loki’s room, and a bit afraid that it would come to blows.

“I-- don’t see why not, as long as Captain Rogers doesn’t mind?” Talia looked to him and he nodded without even thinking. Even if they did get physical, at least it would get him and B--Grima as far away from the other residents and staff as possible.  
“Alright, excellent. I’m going to go talk to our osteologist and set up an x-ray to be sure Loki didn’t injure himself with that display, for once he wakes up.”

Grima nodded his acquiescence, obviously not about to challenge her when it came to Loki’s health and well being. Better to think of him as Grima, too, Steve realized. He would hesitate less if he had to hit him.

But once they were alone and the doors behind them had been closed, Bucky turned to face him.

“Why was he upset, Steve?” He asked, calm but direct.

“He said-- he thinks I’m just using him to get close to you. I’m not, though-- I mean, he and I… I thought we had at least some sort of… of rapport, if not friendship, even before he came here. I didn’t mean.” He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “I think I’ve really messed up. I know he has a lot of… inadequacy fears. I think that’s it, and I think… I think he doesn’t believe anyone could actually want to be around him without ulterior motives. I should have been more careful.”

“Oh.” Grima’s voice sounded small to Steve’s ears, and it put him on the defensive.

“Oh? Is that all you have to say? Did you really think I would purposely try to hurt him, of all people?” Steve snapped, gesturing at the door as if that would illustrate anything.

“It isn’t that, of course you wouldn’t. I think I may have compared him to you, back when Bucky knew you. Back when I knew you, before… everything.”

The settled him down instantly and was sobering.  
“What did you say to-- you remember?” There were two questions there, but it was hard for him to get them out.  
“Loki told me how I learned piano. The first time, not now that he’s refreshing my memory. And then I remembered meeting you. How I admired you, then.” He spoke the same way he always had, since he returned, in short bursts and without feeling, like he was making a report.

“So you compared him and the me you remembered? Because we’re both scrawny little weaklings?” The words felt bitter in his mouth, and though he knew he wasn’t that boy anymore, he still crossed his arms, subtly grasping for the muscles he now had, just to be certain they were still there.

“It’s the resolve. Still, I think he probably began worrying he was a replacement for you. But I was… distraught, when we spoke of it. He couldn’t tell me for fear of hurting my feelings. You, on the other hand…”

“He’s not worried about hurting mine.” Steve wasn’t sure if that hurt more or made him feel relieved. Bucky needed to be taken care of, and clearly, even if it was just in small ways, Loki was doing that. At the same time, he’d really thought they had grown some small bond, built on at least a little respect. Apparently not.

He must have been frowning, his discomfort showing, and Grima had nothing to say to discourage his line of thought. So instead, he quickly changed the subject.

“Did you find anything out about Cynthia for me?” Grima asked, and Steve shook his head.

“I looked, but there aren’t any records of her that I found. Are you sure her case is recent? It may have just been lost when we had to restart SHIELD.” He spread his hands. “It’s been rough trying to get everything back where it should be.”

“She celebrated her fifteenth birthday today, and she has spent everything that she knows of life here. If NEST has only been operational for three years, where is the rest of it?”

Steve stared at him.  
“Is she an amnesiac?”

“She isn’t being treated as such, and any inquiries into her past, made by her or otherwise, are rebuffed.”

“You’ve spoken to Talia Rivera about your concerns?” Grima’s method of delivery made him jerk into his own Captain America setting, and that felt strange, given that the subject of conversation was a barely fifteen year old girl. He wondered whether this was paranoia, or if there was something further at play here, and he tried to think how best to help get to the bottom of it. He knew from the lectures that Sam had given about returning soldiers that it was important not to invalidate these feelings, whether there was a logical basis for them or not.

He’d seen the girl once or twice, and while vaguely familiar, she didn’t seem threatening. Inquisitive, polite, he might even go so far as to call her sweet, but he hadn’t paid enough attention to her to realize anything might be wrong, let alone on this scale.

“No. She’s the one who does the rebuffing. The only person I’ve spoken to about this other than you is Loki. He’s been helping me keep an eye on her, and he agrees with me-- there’s something off.”

Steve froze, wondering if this had been Grima’s idea or Loki’s, and if the latter, for what reason.

“You don’t think she’s dangerous, do you?” Steve asked, knowing that he couldn’t broach the subject of Loki’s involvement without upsetting Grima, especially not so soon after the scene he and Loki had just had-- which he now knew he needed to apologize for.

“She has the potential for it, I think, but no conscious know how. Which is why we’re watching her.” He saw Grima eyeing him for a moment, but waited to see what else he had to say. “Do you trust Loki?” Was what finally came out, and Steve sat down in Talia’s chair, trying to think how to answer.

“More than I should and less than I want to?” He settled on, realizing as he spoke just how Loki-like an answer that was. “I think trusting him fully would be foolish, I want to trust him, but I also can’t forget his track record.”

“Like you can’t forget mine.” Grima said softly, and Steve sighed. This wasn’t an argument he wanted to get into. Not right now, when they suddenly had more important things to talk about.

“There’s a difference between forgiving and forgetting. But look, I don’t know-- I don’t know where I should look for more about Cynthia. I’ll try, and I’ll only contact you about it through your phone. If you’re worried about anyone else seeing messages, just delete them after. Tony assures me they’re some of the most secure lines of communication available to us now.”

Grima ducked his head gratefully. “You should talk to Rivera now. She can’t hear into here, and I’m sure it’s driving her nuts. She doesn’t know about my inquiries, and I think it’s best it stays that way.”

“Alright.” Steve said, the word softened with the swelling of hope he felt. He stood and moved for the door, but hesitated. “If you ever have questions or… want to talk about things you remember.” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the offer hung there.

“Thanks.” Grima said, and it wasn’t a promise, but it would do. For now.

He left and left the door open in his wake. It didn’t take long for the measured clicking of Talia’s heels to cross the threshold and close it again behind her.  
“How did that go?” She asked.

In a sardonic inversion of their usual meetings, he stayed where he was and gestured for her to take a seat.

She clacked primly to the chair her patients usually sat in and sank gracefully into it. If she was bothered at all by the loss of her usual high ground, she didn’t show it.

“It… wasn’t what I expected.” He said honestly. “I think Loki’s a good influence on him. Before the fall, he would have called me names, and after, he would have tried to kill me. Or avoided me. We talked it out.”

“That’s good to hear.” She simply waited for him to tell her more. The silence dragged on for a few solid seconds before he decided to just get it over with. She had things to say, but she wouldn’t until he gave her something first. That was how this worked.

“Loki thinks I’m using him to get close to Bu--to Grima. Grima gave him the impression that he was comparing him to how I used to be. And through all of that, Loki’s doing his best to help Grima remember, and feeling underappreciated for it.” Steve felt chagrined by the entire episode, and having to relay it made him wish Loki wasn’t asleep now, so he could go back and set things right. He consoled himself with the fact that now he had other ways of contacting him, and he found himself fingering the phone in his pocket in anticipation.

“Do you think Loki will ever feel he is suitably appreciated?” She asked, sharp eyes following the gesture and no doubt drawing conclusions from it, though she didn’t bring it up.

“I think it’ll take time for him to realize not everyone is… his family.”

“Hm.” She was noncommittal. “And what about Barnes? Grima. How do you think he’s handling being this close to Loki?”

“Really well, actually.” Steve told her, enthused and unable to hide it. “He’s started remembering a little. He remembered meeting me. Loki asked for a story to tell him, and so I told him how Bucky learned to play piano, and Loki told him, and I guess that helped him remember.”

“Ah.” She sat back in her chair, looking satisfied. “So there’s what Barnes is getting out of it. I had wondered-- Loki obviously gains the strength and presence of Barnes, as well as the power of having him as a follower-- but as far as Barnes is concerned, Loki’s a bit like a kid at a petting zoo. Barnes will let him keep petting him, waiting for that next kibble to come his way. He’s looking for someone who will help him define who he is. It’s no accident that Grima isn’t an English word, or Russian, or even a German one. Barnes didn’t choose it. Loki did.”

“He’s not a show pony!” Steve fired back hotly, instantly defensive. “You wanted Bucky to remember things-- he is. You wanted him to get close to people, to open up, start talking-- that’s happening. You wanted Loki to start treating people like they matter-- Barton told me about your email. It sounds like all of this is happening. What more do you want from them?” He really didn’t understand the friction on her behalf, but suddenly he understood their refusal to discuss their concerns about Cynthia with her.

“I want them to be happy and healthy, and I want there to be no more covert meetings. Did Barnes tell you that he disabled our video cameras and microphones and spent the night in Loki’s bed?”

Steve wasn’t sure what about that statement caused the heat to drain from his face and a cold wash to come over it instead.

He got it. Times were different. Guys and gals got together all the time, sometimes with other guys and gals, respectively. He’d been there when Tony brought home a man or two, and when Nat had had no luck getting him to date any of the ladies she’d picked out for him, she’d politely asked if his tastes ran in the opposite direction. It wasn’t that, it wasn’t because they were men.

Maybe it was because they had grown that close, that quickly, or the very real fear of one or both damaging one another physically or emotionally…

“Did either of them say anything about it to you?” He asked, not quite willing to ask for details, though his mind was busy trying to supply them just the same.

“Loki said that Barnes got nightmares. That’s all I’ve managed to get out of them so far.”

“Nightmares happen to the best of us.” Steve found himself saying faintly, mind whirring.

Was it because he thought he knew Bucky’s tastes? He’d been so popular with the ladies, back in the day… then again, this wasn’t Bucky, exactly. No, that wasn’t it. He didn’t know why, exactly, he was as bothered as he was. Only that he needed to figure it out, and he wasn’t willing to do it in front of Doctor Rivera.

“Are you okay, Steve?” She asked, and he stood.

“I am. A lot to sort through is all.” He said. “If you’ll excuse me, Doctor…” He began to walk away, but she called after him.

“Remember that with someone like Barnes, the mind is almost always more vulnerable than the body. If you’re willing to trust Loki with one but not the other, your priorities may be skewed.”

He heard her but didn’t respond and kept walking, suddenly only too ready to leave.


	6. Six

Her friends lingered around her always, and she was never alone. Loki had spent the day watching, observing, trying to subtly figure out Cynthia’s schedule, trying to see if his ever was free and unobserved when hers was. But since their last meeting, Rivera had seen fit to reinstate his careful schedule and heighten his monitoring. He was surrounded nearly as often as she was, and the increase in proximity of his guards made Grima nervous.

This, in turn, only made him visit after hours again, though he made sure to leave their invasive cameras and recordings running. Loki was sure the entire situation was driving Rivera positively mad. It delighted him.

The only time he was allowed to be alone with someone other than in the dead of night was now, when Rogers had arrived and he was waiting for him to make his way to his door. Olivia, who had spent the morning ostensibly straightening his sparse room, had stepped outside when the speakers in his room announced The Captain’s arrival.

When Rogers knocked and he called for him to enter, he saw Olivia waiting outside, along with Bruno, who had apparently been there all along, perhaps for her protection.

“Captain?” Loki asked, not having expected him back so soon after they had quarreled, though he rationalized that perhaps he was back because they had.

“Did something happen? There’s not usually people standing guard outside…” Rogers asked.

“I think Rivera has grown more suspicious of me. She’s put me under more restrictive observation, at least. Perhaps punishment for Grima’s visits, or our… disagreement. I am sorry, by the way. I should not have allowed myself to react so childishly.” He let his words spill out smoothly, bringing Rogers’s attention to the subject he most wanted to focus on.

“It wasn’t childish. I was insensitive. I didn’t realize-- Grima and I spoke afterwards. I’m sorry.” Rogers’s own apology felt rushed, and Loki felt again like he had the high ground.

“To be fair, it was bound to be one of us eventually. Grima would have grown concerned and unsure of the time you and I spend together-- he may, yet-- and you have shown signs of jealousy at his and my own interactions. And you and he have a history that I cannot possibly compare with. It would do us all well to spend some time together, but it would also do well to have you and he take time away from me, and, if you can manage it, away from this place. I am sure if you phrase it as wanting time with him outside of the realm of my influence, Doctor Rivera will do her utmost to accommodate you.”

“I might, if you’re okay with it. And if he is.” Rogers hesitated, and Loki saw but was willing to wait, to let him take the time he needed. It wasn’t much time, though. “Can I ask-- about the night before that, when he was in your bed…?”

Loki buried the flash of anger that rose first, replacing it with wry amusement.

“What is it you want to know, Captain?” He spoke with a smirk in place, letting it flavor his words. “Are you concerned for his chastity? I have already assured Doctor Rivera that I have not seduced him, nor do I have any plans to. He had a nightmare, and came to me, his friend, to help him diffuse it. That is all, I promise you.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to point fingers or-- This isn’t about you. Wait, no, listen.” The Captain commanded, not turning stern so much as losing the soft edge to his voice. Loki closed his mouth, which he had, admittedly, opened to argue.  
“When Doctor Rivera implied you guys were sleeping together, I got this… ugly feeling. I was angry, or worried, I don’t know. Upset. And I went home and thought about it, and it isn’t-- it isn’t about you, okay? If you and he were-- I’ll admit I’m relieved you aren’t, but even that relief feels ugly. If it was otherwise, I’d support you, okay? Because I would like to think we’re friends. Even if I haven’t been a very good one lately. To either you or him. But I want to be. I’m just trying to figure out how… and trying to find what it is in me that made me feel that way. I’m afraid it’s just jealousy. Not-- not because I want to-- just. You’ve grown so close, and it’s left me realizing that I don’t have… that.” He shrugged, his words tapering off. Loki took pity, because he looked lost.

“Captain, if I may?” He paused, waiting for Rogers’ nod that he might continue. “Your relationship with Bucky was very similar to my relationship with Grima now. There was an imbalance in physical strength, but an equal imbalance in the opposite direction of will and spirit. For us, it is mind versus body. He does not know his own mind, and my helping another brings me out of mine. I would no more endanger him than you would have.”

Rogers looked pained, though, and Loki realized that had been the wrong thing to say.  
“Thing is, though, I did. All the time. I fought guys too big for me to handle, and it was always him who had to pull me out. It was him I asked to follow me back behind enemy lines, and it was him picking up the shield-- my shield-- him protecting me is what led to him getting caught, tortured… I though he died because of me, do you understand? And I can’t-- Loki, no matter what, more than anything else, if you feel like you owe me anything, just help me be sure that doesn’t happen again. I can’t stand it again.”

“I cannot do much, Captain, you know that. But I will not go out of my way to harm him. Indeed, no matter what I may say to make it seem otherwise, I am doing my best to protect him, even from myself. And that is why you must take him elsewhere, talk to him. Get to know him away from all of this. It is one thing to befriend him in captivity, but take the bilgesnipe out of his cage, and see if you are still friends then. Better to give him some trust, and receive some in a slow exchange.” He thought he could see the Captain’s estimation of him going up as he spoke, and he fought to stifle the small flutter of pleasure in his chest that grew from the expression on his face.

“Remember when you said you hated to make a liar of people, Loki?” Rogers asked him. He didn’t wait for a real response, but Loki dipped his head a bit, just the same as he pressed on. “I think you’re a lot better than anyone thinks you are. Maybe even you.”

Loki felt his mouth twist, and he sighed.  
“There are nice monsters, Captain, that does not make them less monstrous.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” He said, and Loki almost wanted to let himself agree, take the compliment and thank him. But he couldn’t.

“There are some basic truths that cannot be modified by the strength of belief alone.” He grimaced, almost apologizing for having said it. “Never mind though, Captain. It is enough that you think so.”

Rogers seemed to want to say more, but he let it go, and just smiled his sad smile and stood, patting Loki on the shoulder.  
“Can I get you anything? Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked instead of pushing the point, and Loki pursed his lips.

“Only speak with him, Captain. And try not to allow Rivera to play on our jealousies. We are, as she would say, one another’s support systems.” He gave him one of those carefully measured smiles, one that pulled his mouth higher on one side while he let his worried eyes play on sympathies and pull at heartstrings. A smile that made him look as though he were putting on a brave face. They came so easily after long centuries of practice, but for the first time, he tasted the lie in his mouth as he did.

 

That night, as Loki lay awake in bed, holding his book and squinting through the mandatory darkness of the hour, waiting for Grima to come and talk to him in the semi private of the hour, he was taken by surprise by a vibrating in his pocket.

He’d forgotten the Stark phone was there, but he fumbled it out in relatively short order.  
>Sorry if I am waking you.

He read the screen, brows knitting, and then nearly dropped it when the next message came in.  
>Wanted to let you know I did try to talk to Grima. He said he didn’t want to come out with me, lest he offend you.

Loki huffed out an annoyed sigh and rubbed his brow.  
>Also, delete this after you read it in case of prying eyes, but I made those inquiries you and Grima asked me to. It’s above my pay grade, I guess. I’m going to ask a friend for advice. I’ll come back in a day or two and let you know how it goes.

Loki deleted the message almost as quickly as he’d read it, surmising that it was about Cynthia.  
His fingers moved slowly over the keys on the screen, gaining surety as they made quiet tapping against the glass.

>Thank you Captain. I will speak with him and look forward to the next time you visit.

No additional messages came, so he sat the phone down on his side table and no sooner had the plastic touched the wood than his door opened.

“Did Steve send you a goodnight message, too?” Grima asked as he sat on the edge of Loki’s bed, amusement dripping from his voice. Loki wasn’t sure he’d seen Grima in such a mood before. It didn’t entirely mesh with the idea he had of the man, but he thought that might be rather the point. He just nodded and went along with it.

“He did. He wanted to let me know that he had asked you to come out for a day, but you had declined for my sake.”

Even in the dark, he could see the way a small frown creased Grima’s face.

“Was that wrong?” He asked, his voice suddenly far less jovial. Loki cursed himself for not keeping to light conversation, but couldn’t do anything but go along with it now.

“No, of course not. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. But, if you did want to, by all means, please do. If you don’t, that’s fine. However the Captain and I had a talk today about jealousy, and how we all are guilty of it in some measure. And I actually suggested that he ask you-- so that he might have the chance to speak with you, without Rivera having any grounds for suspicion of my guiding your interactions. I don’t want her to have any chance or reason to keep us any further apart.”

“I ran into her on the way here.” Grima said then, regaining his humor, but failing to comment on his own wants in regards to Rogers. “My phone went off outside her office. She came out and looked resigned, and asked that I remind you of your appointment tomorrow night for physical therapy.”

Loki groaned.  
“Well if you would like to come along tomorrow night, I would love to see Nico’s face when you end up being of more help than both of the attendants he brings along. Again, though, you don’t have to if you’d rather not.”

“I’d be glad to. Not as if I’m of much use elsewhere.” There was a brittle edge to the humor there, and Loki felt for the man.

“Well. Just so you are prepared, my last two sessions have ended in frustration and tears. So, if that makes you uncomfortable…” Loki trailed off, unwilling to see how Grima might react if made uncomfortable.

“You’ve helped me through my tears. I’d be a poor friend not to return the favor.” He said simply, reverting to his short sentences and blunt near blandness. It was a show of solemnity, Loki thought, and he reached out and clasped the back of Grima’s flesh hand, where it sat in his lap.

“I appreciate that, too.” He said. Grima flinched and Loki went to take his hand away, until the cool metal of Grima’s other grasped it gently and held it in place.

“Did Steve also tell you about the dead end he hit?” Grima asked quietly.

Loki hummed an affirmative.  
“I think perhaps we should contact the source directly. As privately as possible.”

“Now?” Grima seemed surprised, but not adverse.

“I don’t see why not.” Loki thought quickly and spoke as softly as possible. “If Rivera knows you’re here, she won’t question the sounds of you leaving. But she would wonder at the noise of my chair…”  
“I’ll carry you, if you’ll permit me.” Grima offered immediately, and Loki smiled.

“Of course. Thank you. But can you still open the door however you do it, if you’re holding me?” His mind whirred as he sped through the possible pitfalls that this spontaneous outing might encounter.

Grima held up his hand and, in what little light there was, Loki watched as his palm reconfigured itself, and a thin strip of metal stuck out of it like a blade.

“I just replicated one of the magnetic strips on the maximum access keycards. We shouldn’t have a problem.” Grima reported. Unlike his usual toneless reports, though, this had the ring of pride to it. It made Loki feel proud of his friend, as well.

“Alright. Then, shall we?” He lifted his arms up, and Grima stood, scooping his non metal arm under Loki and forming something of a chair out of his forearm. Loki wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulder to help hold himself in place.

“You weigh hardly anything.” This close to him, Loki could see in minute detail the way the muscles of Grima’s face shifted beneath his skin for his frown.

“I know.” Loki said softly, allowing all of the shame he really felt to seep into the words. It froze discussion of the topic in its tracks, and he could hear the way Grima sucked air in harshly through his nose.

“Sorry.” he mumbled.

“It’s alright.” Loki assured him.

 

Out in the hallway, Loki was not surprised to find that Grima moved with a swift confidence that made the low visibility of the darkness seem inconsequential. There was no hesitation as he rounded a corner and began taking the stairs. He didn’t question how well Grima knew the layout of the house, nor how he knew where not to step to avoid making any noises between Loki’s room and Cynthia’s.

With a jolt, Loki realized he did not even know where Grima’s room was, nor had he even seen this area of the house. Not, he reasoned, that he was actually ‘seeing’ it now. The grand windows above the staircase let in a little starlight, painting the room a soft blue that faded all too easily into the inky void of the shadows. But Loki was not afraid. Not with a shadow of his own.

Grima stopped before a door and slid his palm across the reader. The door unlocked with a click, and he let them in.

Cynthia woke before the door had slid closed behind them, and Loki heard her spit something out and then breathe in to scream.  
He thought to say something, but his mouth had not even opened before Grima strode forward.

“Cynthia, shh, it’s me, it’s-- Grima. Barnes. It’s me and Loki. I promise we won’t touch you, we aren’t going to hurt you. We’re just trying to find out why the doctors here are keeping you a secret. Is that okay?”

She didn’t yell, so Loki assumed she must be thinking. The room was slightly more lit than his, but even so he could only make out the shapes of her sitting up, not her expressions.

“Alright…” She said, her voice fuzzy with sleep and the word dubious, but an agreement just the same.

“I’m going to put Loki on your computer chair, okay? Like I said, neither of us is going to touch you.” Grima was smart, telling her each move he meant to make before making it. But it seemed she was less worried about them molesting her, and more worried about him.

“Where’s his chair?” She asked.

“It’s much more difficult to sneak upstairs in something with wheels.” He told her wryly, and she laughed.

“Oh yeah, I guess so.” He saw her settle in to sit more comfortably, bending her knees and wrapping her arms around them. From this angle, he could see how her hair was mussed from her pillow, and the way she tilted her head, trying to make sense of this visit. “Sooooooooo…” She said, once he had been deposited and found his balance. “What do you want, exactly?”

“There is something wrong with your past, isn’t there? Something no one wants you to talk about.” Loki spoke gently, intent on coaxing the information from her.

“It’s not that. I just really don’t remember much.” She looked down, seemingly ashamed, and began toying with a dark shape on the bed.

He looked at Grima, unable to make out his expression, but knowing full well that their suspicions were intact and unsatisfied by this apparent dead end.

“When we came in, you had something in your mouth. What was it?” Grima asked suddenly.

Cynthia lifted her hand, dark thing included.  
“It’s a mouth guard. I… sometimes I get seizures at night, and it stops my tongue from getting all torn up.” She sounded reticent, no doubt afraid of this aspect of her physiology and worried they would think ill of her for it.

This, then, was why she had not screamed immediately.

“Seizures?” Grima repeated, perplexed. “I had no idea. They usually say when someone is at risk of a seizure, so the other residents will know how to react.”

“Oh, it’s only at night. I have anticonvulsants… they make it happen not as much.” She responded, flippant. Dismissive. But they could all hear the stress in her voice.

“What-- have the doctors spoken with you about what may cause it?” Loki asked.

“No, they just said it was from over exposure. I don’t know to wha--” She stopped suddenly.  
Loki grasped at her silence, sure it held something more.

“What is it?”

“I don’t remember much at all.” She said slowly, “But there was this… chair. Sometimes I have dreams. Usually on the nights I have seizures… and then it happens again more often for a while. But there’s this chair, like a dentist’s chair. And there’s a ring around the top where your head goes. It looks like a halo, you know, like from those paintings on the history channel. Not above your head, but behind it. Like stained glass, but made of metal. Old metal. And the bottom of the halo has arms like it’s praying. But then you get in the chair, and the metal clamps go around your arms and they hold you still… the room dances, but you can’t. All you can do is let your head roll around, and it’s hard. Your eyes are heavy, but you’re scared--”

Loki felt Grima’s hand clamp down on his shoulder, almost uncomfortably tight, and he reached up to hold it, to remind him that he wasn’t alone. They listened, horrified, as she continued. Her voice had changed, lost the high pitched girlish quality of it. She had begun to drone, the report the same sort of bland speech that Grima sometimes gave.

“There’s a mouth guard for that, too. And then the head part comes down, and it zaps, and you can smell it. It’s warm, and the hairs on the side of your face feel like they’re burning. There’s so much fear and then the pain starts, but you can’t get away from it, you’re held in place and…” She stopped. “I don’t remember what happens next. I remember that happening at least three times, maybe more. They all slide together.”

“That’s what was done to me.” Grima spoke softly. “When they made me into a weapon, that’s how… Cynthia, do you know who did that to you? Was it Hydra?”

Across the room, they saw the girl draw herself in tighter.

“I don’t know anybody else, but I remember seeing Doctor Rivera there. She said. She said it was going to help me forget. Help me be the person I was supposed to be. I don’t know what that means.”

“Neither do we.” Loki said softly, looking up at what he could see of Grima’s face and then back through the darkness towards the bed. “But we are going to find out. I know this is probably scary, but I need you not to tell anybody about what you told us, what you remembered. If you do, they may do it to you again. Captain America is going to help us make sure that they don’t but we need you to help us until we can get everything taken care of, okay? So you have to pretend we weren’t here, that you don’t know anything. That everything is normal. Can you do that?”

“I-- yeah. I can do that.” She didn’t sound very sure, but there was nothing they could do about it. Not without scaring her further. Loki sighed.

“Cynthia? I promise you, everything is going to be okay, if you just trust us. We’ll make sure this doesn’t happen any more.”  
Grima squeezed his shoulder once more, then let go.

Loki turned to him.  
“Grima, I need you to do whatever it is that you did to disable the video and audio in my room, but I need you to remove all proof that we ever left it. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” Grima sounded shaken, but seemed to take comfort from having a plan of action, a goal to set his mind on. A mission. Loki felt guilty for filling that hole for him, but he couldn’t risk letting Grima shake apart right now. Not in front of Cynthia. They had to look like they really were in control and able to help her, or she could have no reason to trust them or believe they would be able to keep her safe.

“Tomorrow I want you to go see Rivera. Tell her that the Captain asked you to join him outside of the NEST, and that you think you want to go. I need you to pretend to her that tonight never happened, too, okay? You need to make her think you are excited at the prospect of having Rogers to yourself without me around.” He was thinking quickly now, formulating as much of a plan as he was able. “And then when you’re out with him, have him check you for bugs, and then tell him everything you know, both about Cynthia, and about what was done to you. Enemies to the Captain may be running NEST, and we can’t risk them knowing they’ve been found out until we’ve had a chance to tell him.”

“Alright. And what will you do?” Grima asked. Loki pursed his lips.

“I am going to talk to a few people here, very carefully. It is best to know, if the worst comes to pass, who can be relied on as an ally… and who must be counted among the enemy.”

“Chris and Sharon wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt me. They’re my friends. They aren’t enemies.” There was a hard edge of anger to her voice, and Cynthia actually stood from her bed, glorious in all of the defiance as her young frame could muster.

“Not them, of course.” Loki told her quickly, reassuring with tone as well as words. “I would never suspect them of betraying you. But everyone has different motives, and in this place where fighting back against those holding us captive may mean the ruination of a second chance…” He trailed off, confident that she was smart enough to see where he was going with that.

“So… why do you want to help me, then?” Her words were deceptively simple, her tone and mind sharp with the distrust he had known must find its way to her eventually.

“We may not be counted as good men, but sometimes people do things in the name of good that even monsters such as we can’t allow.” He felt grim, and wished again that he had his power returned to him, though not for his own gain this time, but for the destruction of those who would harm a child.

“Then… thank you.” She said, and even across the room and in the dark, he could see the way her shoulders sagged in relief. It reminded him of Rogers, the day he had come in and slept in Loki’s bed after a mission, the way the exhaustion had settled all at once and the rigid lines of control he forced into himself had come down.

Cynthia thus assured of their intentions, Loki looked up at Grima.

“We have much to do. Shall we?” He raised his arms, feeling like a useless infant, only able to assist a little in Grima’s lifting him from the seat.

Grima returned him to his room and went on his way to destroy any evidence of their departure, erasing the tape in Loki’s room and looping the one of Cynthia sleeping in her own.

Loki, for his part, sat up in his bed, organizing his thoughts and worrying that the people running this facility would get wind of their knowledge before Grima and Rogers could return from their outing.

It was good they they would be on the outside, and though he knew he should be concerned for himself, his mind tarried on what process could be so terrifying as to break a man as strong as Grima, leave a girl with seizures, and remove the memories from both of them.

Nothing, he was sure, that he wanted to tangle with in his current state. But he didn’t see that he had much choice. He needed to get to the other residents and get them rallying behind Cynthia’s safety as soon as possible.

 

***

 

Steve got a call early the next morning, out of nowhere, from Grima.

He answered it on the first ring, a little out of breath from his morning workout and more than a little afraid that something had happened to Loki.

“Hello?” He asked, his Captain America command voice firmly in place. That seemed to be the wrong decision though, because instantly Grima hesitated. Mentally cursing himself, Steve tried again, speaking more gently now. “Grima? You there?”

“Steve?” He sounded unsure, but not panicked.

“Sorry-- I thought, when I saw it was you. Um, is everything okay?” He felt his brow furrowing, trying to imagine why Grima would call him. Loki was right, the guy seemed to want little to do with him outside of having him find information. Maybe that was what he needed now.

“Everything is fine. I was wondering if you still wanted to spend time together outside of the home? Doctor Rivera is here with me. She says she thinks it’s a good idea.” He kept his voice neutral, not the dead hollow of him reporting on things, but… Steve still felt like there was something he was supposed to be reading between the lines.

Obviously he wasn’t free to speak if Doctor Rivera was there- that one was obvious. He needed to be outside of the house for something. Steve wondered whether that was for something he needed to do, or something Loki needed him to, and how much he could trust either of them.

“Yeah, of course!” He answered quickly, trying to think on his feet. “Was there somewhere special you’d like to go?”

“I was hoping maybe you would show me some of the places you and Bucky-- you and I-- used to. Whatever.” He could hear Grima shrugging and he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.

“Yeah, yeah I can do that. When did--”

“Tomorrow?” The word was sharp, almost insistent, and the strain that he heard there was the only thing that told him this wasn’t just what Grima was saying it was now, though he’d suspected.

“I can do tomorrow, sure. Yeah. Anything else?”

“Can someone. I don’t want Loki to feel left alone.” It was the first time he’d mentioned Loki so far in the call, the longest Steve thought they’d spoken without him coming up. He considered how Grima had changed directions mid sentence, and wondered if there was some kind of threat that he didn’t see. It made his skin crawl a little.

“I think Barton wanted to talk to him, anyway. I’ll ask him.” He promised, mind already clicking over to Natasha and how it wouldn’t be odd for her to go along as well. In fact, it would be strange for him to show up to transport Grima without backup… this would be a trial to pull off. Nevermind clearing it with Fury. He thought this was one of those times it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. And especially given Fury’s history of not telling him things, Steve only felt a tiny twinge of guilt to be returning the favor. It wasn’t necessarily the right thing to do, but it was to help people he cared for. It was the thing that it felt right to do. He’d have to hold to that, at least until tomorrow was over. He’d let himself feel bad when Fury was dressing him down for it.

“So 8 Tomorrow morning okay? Check with Rivera.” He prompted. He heard the phone lowered and the words repeated, and her unflappable voice, muffled by distance.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Grima sounded a little less tense about it. Maybe he was just worried about leaving? Or about being alone with Steve?

“Alright. See you then.” Steve hung up, unslung the punching bag he’d been in the process of pulverizing, and settled it over his shoulder before beginning to dial on his phone, one handed, while he walked.

“Tony? Are Clint and Nat home? I need to ask the three of you for a favor…”

****  
He didn’t realize how nervous he’d been about picking up Grima until it registered that he’d barely slept.  
He’d spent the whole night making a list of places he needed to take him, researching whether or not they were still there, trying to write a list of the memories that he most cherished of the two of them in or around each place.

He’d tried to stop at around midnight, knowing he’d have to be up by five to get to Avenger tower and leave by six to get there in time, give or take. He’d climbed into bed-- then promptly had to get up to add to the list again.\

He was hopeless, and he alternated between grinning like a mad man and worrying his lip between his teeth, hoping that Bucky didn’t have any bad memories associated with the same places, for Grima to find.

Natasha had insisted on driving the SUV to NEST, which was probably for the best, between his lack of sleep, the sleep Tony was still getting, and the fact that Clint had climbed into the car clutching a literal pot of coffee to his chest. She seemed, as usual, the most put together of all of them.

“So, Cap,” She said, her voice rasping just a little, reassuring them all that she was also human and not immune to mornings. “When do you think you’ll be back to pick us up?”

“I don’t know.” He said honestly. “If it goes bad, maybe sooner than later. I think there may be something afoot, which is why I have Tony with me, and why I wouldn’t leave Loki or send Clint alone. I don’t actually think any of us are in danger--” Clint snorted, and Steve glared but spoke anyway, making his voice sterner, “But they’ve had me looking into something, and I have a feeling they may think they’re in danger.”

“Are they?” She asked, the question blunt.

“I don’t know.” He said again, this time less confidence in his words, and he turned to look out the window. The possibilities and worries began crashing around his mind.

Behind him, in the third row, Tony started to snore.  
It proved to be a much longer drive than anticipated.

When they pulled into the driveway of NEST, Steve wasn’t sure if he was carsick or just sick with nerves. Either way, he’d never been happier to get out of a vehicle, and he was the first one in the front door as a result.

Let the others take it for eagerness if they wanted; he had always been the kid to rip the bandaid off quick.

“Good Morning, Travis.” He usually didn’t get a chance to greet the other first. But he felt like he was in a hurry today.

“Morning, Captain Rogers! I hear we’re giving you custody of one of ours today.” Travis spun in his chair to reach behind him and pull out a form.

“Yeah, I’m going to be taking James Barnes-- Grima-- along with Anthony Stark, and Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton will be here for a visit with Loki.” As he spoke, the people in question finally made it through the front doors, Tony looking miraculously alert and put together for having been asleep less than ten minutes previously.

“All right…” Travis said, drawing the word out as he finished filling in the form and passed it over to Steve. “I’ll need you to sign there, you and Mr. Stark both--” He held out a pen for Tony, who just stared, waited until Steve had signed, and plucked the pen out of his hand to add his own well rehearsed squiggle to the document. He sat both pen and paper down on the counter and shoved it towards Travis with a winning smile.

“Need anything else from us?”

“Nuh uh, wait, yeah, ID please?” He held his hand out and Tony casually pressed his wallet into Steve’s hands, pulling out a five as he did. “Where’re your vending machines? I’m starved.”

“Down this hall, last door on the right.” Travis pointed, and Tony smiled again and took off in the direction he was pointed, while Steve slid his ID out of the plastic sleeve in the expensive leather.

“Here you go.” He offered it across, Travis took down the information needed from it, and Tony wandered back in while Natasha and Clint began the process of signing in.

Steve put the ID back and slid the wallet across the counter towards Tony for him to pick up. He nodded silently, smart retort stifled behind the candy bar he’d decided was going to count as breakfast.

Natasha, meanwhile, was signing herself in using the clipboard that Steve normally saw.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen her write manually before, but he watched as she traded hands twice before settling on her left one. He didn’t comment. No doubt that, like most of her quirks, had been trained into her, and probably was not full of happy memories. Better to let it lie.

Clint was straightforward throughout the process, but a little uncharacteristically quiet. Steve could have written it off to the early hour, but it was more likely because it was Loki they were going to see.

All of the necessary office work finished, Travis picked up his desk phone and dialed Talia Rivera’s extension.

“Captain America, Iron man, Black Widow and… um. The scowly arrow guy… are here for Loki and Barnes.”

Tony and Natasha claimed the visitor chairs, leaving Steve and Clint to wait for the arrival of the people they’d be spending the day with.  
Steve at least was glad for Clint’s silent solidarity- both of them on edge, but trying to keep it hidden.

Neither of them paced, but they did stand a little straighter as the sound of footfall, heels, and wheels approached, Grima pushing Loki in his chair while Talia Rivera followed alongside.

“Doctor, Loki, Grima…” Steve greeted each one, a smile in place on his face, the same one he used to use for signing autographs and kissing babies.

“Good morning, gentlemen, and Ms. Romanoff. It’s so good to see you all.” Doctor Rivera’s politeness was perfectly balanced, and Steve got the feel she was gauging everyone in the room.

“Captain,” Loki greeted, then turned to warily face his companions. Grima just nodded, and Steve wondered if he was going to refuse to speak once they had left, if Tony was with them.

He wished he’d had the forethought to ask, but there was nothing for it now.

“Loki.” Clint spoke up from beside him, his voice sudden. “I talked to those people you asked me to. Who was left of them, anyway.” Steve saw Loki flinch under the words, and suddenly had to worry about the damage he might be doing leaving Natasha and Clint here with him.

“Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere-- my room.” Steve heard the word Loki had intended, private, and then the reconsideration, and knew somehow that it wasn’t a slip of the tongue, but rather a veiled barb, directed at Rivera. He stole a glance that way, noting that she appeared unphased, and he wondered again what she might be hiding behind that placid exterior.

“Loki?” Steve asked. “Will you be okay if I leave Natasha and Clint here with you while Grima and I go out for a bit?” He felt like he was walking on eggshells, and let it show.

Loki made a face that Steve couldn’t quite read, then shook his head.  
“Captain, it’s unlikely anyone here could do anything worse to me than I have already suffered. Especially in the short time you will be gone. I will be fine.”

“Loki, you know your safety is among our primary concerns…” Rivera sounded as though it was something she had repeated often.

“Yes, and if either of these two wanted me dead, there would be not a thing you could do to stop it. Then again, if they wanted me dead, I suspect I already would be.” He inclined his head almost respectfully towards Natasha, and Steve would have sworn for a moment that she smiled. “I will be fine, Captain. Though perhaps you should arrange a means of transportation in the event your Hawk tries too quickly of my company.”

Not a bad idea, Steve realized. And rude of him not to have considered giving them a way out if needed.

“Don’t worry.” Natasha said dryly, clearly reading the realization off his face. “If need be, I can call for a ride. We’re all grown ups here.”

That seemed to settle that, so Steve turned to Tony and Grima. “Are you ready to go?”

“Captain?” Steve noticed how Grima and Loki tensed when Rivera addressed him, and he had to wonder what they were up to. They looked like guilty children to him.

“Something I forgot, Doctor?”

“I just wanted to be sure you know that if anything goes wrong, you can call me, and we’ll send a team out to pick him up.” She shifted her gaze from his face to Grima’s as she said this, turning it from an offer to him to a warning to Grima. It made him itch with an undercurrent of anger.

“I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” He told her, aware his voice had come out icy. “Tony? Would you like to drive?”

“That thing? No, I’m good, thanks. Take the front seat, Buddy.”He flapped his hand at Grima. “I think I’m going to have a nap.” Tony, it seemed, could always be counted on to normalize a situation with sheer lack of concern.

With one last glance back at those staying at NEST and a nod from Clint, Steve opened the front door to Grima, letting him walk out first.

He stepped outside gingerly, like he thought someone might change their mind, like he might suddenly be in trouble. Steve was content to let him take things at his own pace, glancing around from one tree to another, down the drive, then up at the sun, his face open and wondering and suddenly younger looking, but again Tony broke the moment by walking past Grima, drawing his attention and opening the driver’s side back door.

Grima snapped back into himself, his face shuttering, and barely glanced at Steve before climbing into the car.

Once the doors were shut, Steve began talking.  
“So I thought we should go back to our old apartment first, show you the old neighborhood. It’s not quite the same. The corner deli is a--”

“Is it safe to speak frankly here? Can you ensure none will overhear?” Grima spoke lowly, quickly, and evenly, and even Tony sat up in alarm.

“Hit the blue button, Cap, and then wait til it flashes green. There you go… you’re good, any devices trying to listen in are disabled.” Tony instructed, then turned to face Grima better. “So what gives? I knew this field trip sounded too Hallmark to be true.”

Steve glared him down, but quirked an eyebrow and kept driving back towards New York.

“Loki and I have reason to believe that NEST has obtained either the machine used for wiping my mind or one like it, and has been employing it to remove Cynthia’s memories.” Steve could almost hear the relief in Grima’s words.

“Woah, woah… ok, taking it back a notch, you brainwashed, got it. You think S.H.I.E.L.D. is still using Hydra tech? Even after the whole…” He waved his hands a bit, and Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  
“You said you have reason to believe. Have you got any proof?” He asked instead.

“Loki and I spoke to Cynthia. We destroyed the recordings, but as long as they haven’t used it on her again, she should be able to explain what she remembers again. And what she remembers is…” Grima shuddered. “She described things I had forgotten about, as well as things I wish I could. Additionally, whatever modifications they have done, or perhaps her exposure at so young an age, has left her with seizures. Only at night, she says. Still.” The disgust evident in his voice made Steve’s heart leap. For just a moment, he sounded absolutely like Bucky, talking down about whatever bullies had beat Steve up this week. What followed was a pang of loss, quickly buried. Steve refused to be jealous of a little girl in need of their help.

“And you’re sure it’s people from NEST, not just something she encountered before she was in their care?” Tony spoke carefully, his flippant attitude gone.

“She said that Doctor Rivera was there-- that she told her it was for the best.” Steve felt ill at the words.

“So what do you want to do?” Steve asked, trying not to let his grip on the steering wheel become strong enough to break the plastic, trying to drive safely despite being semi blinded by the flash of rage behind his eyes.

“Take me to SHIELD. I need to know what was done to me, exactly, and I know you have files. I need to talk to your best scientists about what possibilities there are for memory retrieval. I may not be ready to be Bucky again, but if we’re going to reverse the damage done to Cynthia, we’ll need a guinea pig.”

“We’re not going to run tests on you just because you say some girl said some things.” Tony sounded like he was trying to be the responsible one, and Steve felt guilty for disagreeing-- selfish even, because he wanted Bucky back more than anything. But…

“It’s not just that Tony. I’m inclined to believe him. I’ve tried looking for her. Her file is too high a level for my clearance. That wasn’t supposed to be able to happen any more. And if they’re willing to use that, how much of Hydra’s tech is SHIELD still employing? Besides, all we’re looking at doing is reverse engineering technology from sixty years ago. It shouldn’t be that hard for you.” He turned it into a challenge, a dare, even, knowing Tony couldn’t resist.

He saw Tony’s face in the rear view mirror, the rise of his brow and firming of his mouth, before he scoffed and started spewing technobabble to prove that he was more than smart enough to take apart anything that those Nazi assholes had come up with. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shift on Grima’s face and looked over to see him grinning in Steve’s direction.  
When Steve turned to look though, he turned his head to stare out the window.

They drove in silence for only a few moments before Tony launched himself up between the seats, deactivated the bug killer, and Turned on the radio. He slumped back into his own row, and pulled out his phone.

“Gentlemen, I am going to hazard a guess and say that the two of you have yet to be exposed to the brilliance of David Bowie. And that’s a shame.” He said frankly, then pressed play.

 

As they pulled into the underground parking lot at the new headquarters, Steve was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Tony rolled down the back window and waved cheerfully at the security detail while blasting some gobbledygook so loud, Steve worried his ears might bleed.

It seemed to do the trick though. None of them stopped to ask who Grima was.

 

They successfully smuggled Grima into the lower labs, and while Tony began his hacker tricks to access Cynthia’s files as well as the encrypted parts of Bucky’s, Steve stood watch over Bruce drawing blood from Grima’s flesh arm.

“Do you have any idea how much of your arm still exists under the metal?” Bruce was asking him, his manner oddly comforting despite the words.

Steve hadn’t had much opportunity to see Bruce working with people outside of the team, and certainly not in a situation where he was gentling a patient. It was a whole new side to him to consider, and he filed it away as something to reflect on when he wasn’t actively making sure they didn’t do anything to alarm or trigger a panic attack in Grima.

“Shoulder. They took it off a few times, replaced it with newer models. This was the latest, right before…” He waved his metal hand to gesture at Steve, and the ghost of a lopsided smile appeared. “The last upgrade.” It sounded bitter. Steve wondered why.

“That would be why we couldn’t get the scans to work, then. It’s probably some alloy that Hydra experimented with to hide their tech from casual interference. Smart.” Bruce was sort of muttering to himself while he moved the rubber stoppered vial to the centrifuge and set it spinning.

“Cap? You want to have a look at this?”  
Tony asked from the other side of his see-through screen.

Steve could see that it was the schematics for the conditioning chair that Bucky had been strapped into to become the Winter Soldier.

He circled around just the same, a sense of dread building in his stomach.

“Talk to me.” He said, his hand resting on the back of Tony’s chair and leaning in to see.

“So, ECT we’ve seen before, it involves a bilateral electrode placement and a quick shock to relieve a host of symptoms, with memory loss as a side effect. This… this isn’t that.”

Steve saw Tony glance over at where Bruce and Grima were talking and Bruce was showing Grima something that involved placing patches on Bruce’s temples and pulling up his brain scans.

“So what is it?” He pressed.

Tony swallowed and lowered his voice.  
“It’s still targeted, but the targets are all over the place-- they didn’t aim for his muscle memory, procedural memory…. nothing in the back, didn’t want to hit his cerebellum, they didn’t want to impair him. They want him to be useful, but not a person anymore. But he must have had splitting headaches, and the process itself--” Tony shuddered. “There’s a note here that there were no pain killers or muscle relaxants administered. Jesus, they just strapped him down and watched him squirm…”

Tony tapped, and suddenly they had video. It was rough, grainy looking, at least a couple of decades old. Steve saw the arms swing down, saw the way Bucky’s lips rolled back around the guard they’d shoved between his teeth. Saw the way his body tensed, then arched, then twisted as the power surged through him.

He heard a strangled noise and looked through the screen, beyond the pictures on it, and saw Grima stand abruptly, saw the way Bruce backed off instantly, his eyes fixed on the reverse image on the other side.

“I-- excuse me.” Grima choked the words out and was out the doors and running before any of them could do anything about it.

There was a moment of silence, and then Steve swore.  
“J.A.R.V.I.S. terminate everything, Tony, help me find him. He’s not supposed to be here, Fury’s going to have all of us strung up. Bruce-- vamoose.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, spun on his heel, and went through the doors and off in the direction Grima had turned.  
This was not the way he’d expected to spend their day out.

****

It would have been uncomfortably cramped trying to entertain both Barton and Romanoff in his room. There was only his bed and one chair, and staying in his wheelchair would mean he’d have to continue looking up at whichever of them took the seat on his bed, a prospect that he found unpalatable at best.

Instead, when Doctor Rivera told them they were free to range, he led them into the communal room where his group meetings took place, not having experienced many other rooms in the house.

It was fortunately devoid of people this early in the morning, or perhaps though the cooperation of the house staff.

Lok wheeled himself to sit with between the end of the couch and the coffee table, giving the other two plenty of open seating places that were well within his range of vision.

“Thank you for coming, Romanoff, Barton.” He spoke calmly but cautiously.

“I talked to the people on that list.” Barton said abruptly, examining things in the room, looking everywhere but at Loki. His pacing was agitated, and his left hand, the one that generally held his bow, clenched and unclenched, as if missing the weapon.

Loki bit his lip, then offered a, “I thank you for it.” He paused, waiting to see if Barton would volunteer more information, but when nothing seemed to be coming immediately, he tried again. “Are they-- they have not suffered overmuch due to… they have not suffered, I hope.”

Barton spun and glared at him, the lines of his face drawn tight.

“Two of them killed themselves. One checked into a mental institution-- do you know how hard I had to work to convince him he wasn’t actually insane? That I could hear the voices too? That it was over now?” He’d stalked closer, his words gaining in ferocity as he spoke, until he was snarling them less than a foot and a half from Loki’s chair.

“Clint.” Natasha said, the single word echoing in the sudden silence like an order to stand down.

Loki added those two-- he wished he knew names, but it seemed crass to ask now-- to his mental tally of those he’d killed. The numbers were overwhelming, and he felt the yawning chasm of his own darkness opening up to swallow him again.

All these lives, all these people, affected, stolen, ruined in his quest to save his own skin.

“I’m sorry. That you heard… that they did. I wish I knew how to right these wrongs.” His voice came out more brittle than he meant it to, and he knew how dangerous that was in his current company. But part of him didn’t care. What could they do to him? Kill him? At this point, that mightn’t be so bad.

He’d done what he said he would, didn’t he? Helped the girl, got Grima talking to Rogers. He’d done everything he could. So little, now.

But Clint was speaking, and the least he could do was pay attention. He owed him that much.

“When I started getting the dreams, at first I was glad. It felt like revenge, it felt like it was me taking you apart. It felt like reclaiming who I was. Who I used to be. But you… after a while it disgusted me, made me sick. I wasn’t that imaginative, even I wouldn’t wish that kind of suffering on someone. I went to doctors, I took pills, I drank hoping not to see you when I went to sleep. And after a while it stopped. For me. Not for you, I guess. Why?” He was lost, demanding answers, his pacing falling off and leaving him to stand beside where the Widow perched on the end of the couch. She put her hand on his arm, though whether to control or console, Loki wasn’t sure.

“I can only guess…” He said slowly. “They bound my magic. It severed the connection-- something even I could not do before then. I didn’t know what I was toying with when I used the scepter on you. I discovered when I became open, when we were tied and I couldn’t turn you off.”

“I don’t hear so great, Loki.” Clint pulled a plastic lump from his ear and held it up. “When I told you my weaknesses, I told you about that. Only take them out at night, if I remember. But that means when I sleep, I hear everything around me like it’s muffled, far off. You, though, every scream, every word, every whimper, you were inside my head.”

“I am sorry.” Loki said simply. “As I said, that cannot begin to be enough, but if it will help you to hear it, I am.” He felt mired in his guilt, slowly drowning in it, and began to wonder when he had started to care. He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and tried not to.

There was a long moment in which no one spoke, then “Yeah.” The word was gruff, and it held no forgiveness, only acknowledgement.

It descended into a tense silence that lasted for perhaps a minute, before the quiet was shattered by the arrival of Loki’s usual group.

Melina froze just inside the door.

“Romanoff.” The word fell from her mouth like a dead thing, and The Widow stood and turned, immediately on guard.

“Vostokoff. I see you finally got up the courage to show your face. I hardly recognized you without your mask.”

Loki had known that Melina harbored ill-will towards Romanoff, but he hadn’t realized the feeling was mutual. But, judging by the icy chill in The Widow’s voice, and the slight accent that had crept into it, this went back a long way.

Now it was Clint whose touch reminded to other of where they were.

“And I see you haven’t changed. Still taking orders and groveling before those you were made to be better than.” Melina flicked her eyes from Clint to Loki, her lips drawing thin.

Loki wanted to bristle, but was too busy putting pieces together.

Melina would be exactly the person to get on Cynthia’s side, she knew what it was to be denied her life, her childhood. Turned into a weapon. That must be what S.H.I.E.L.D. intended for Cynthia, too. It would take only a small push, and it would be best for that if he distanced himself now from The Widow.

“There is truth in what she says, Romanoff. You bested me. Regimes fall all the time, you said. Why are you clinging to one that has already sunk beneath your feet once?”

Melina looked -- if not pleased, at least glad of Loki’s speaking up. His readings of people, it seemed, had not gone as soft as his heart had tried to.

With that in mind, Loki scanned his eyes over those assembled. Tiboldt he dismissed as useless. The man was a charlatan at best.

He saw the way Curtis shifted behind Melina to echo Clint’s stance beside Romanoff. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought that perhaps where she went, Curtis may too.

Marsha he would wager on taking the stance with the girl on behalf of her bleeding heart.

Tilda, though, was a wild card, difficult to tell, difficult to read. And Ohnn… Loki’s brow furrowed.

“I’m not here to fight with anyone. We came to visit Loki-- I didn’t realize we’d be seeing you, Melina.” Romanoff had elected to ignore him, probably for the best, and Clint was glaring his way now.

The situation had grown, if anything, tenser, and he was glad of the staff’s interceding.

“Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton, a word?” Doctor Rivera, it seemed, was occasionally useful after all.

The second the three of them had stepped out and into the hallway, Loki pretended to try and move forward, then acted as though his wheel was stuck.  
“Marsha? I’m sorry, would you--” He gestured downwards and was glad to see her quickly kneel. He angled his head like he was trying to see, but really he was moving his mouth down near her ear, and hiding the motions of his lips in her hair. He spoke quickly and lowly, trying to hurry along.

“Shh, pretend. I’ve come into some knowledge. NEST has been testing Hydra brainwashing techniques on the children. I am doing what I can on the outside but I need your help protecting Cynthia. Tell the others you can trust.”

He sat up quickly and thanked her, beginning to roll forward just as his guardians came back into the room.

Let her tell the others, let them debate if they can trust him. Either way they will be wrong. They will ask Cynthia, eventually, and she will take it to mean he finds them trustworthy. They are, really, all slave to the universal fear for the future. Children are sacred, and what’s more they want reasons to be angry at those who hold them. The chaos he was seeding would be glorious. He was building an army behind Cynthia. He only hoped, when it was time to move, he would be there to help her lead it.

He was careful not to look at Marsha, and he reasoned that everyone would take her concerned face for her worry about the near-miss of a fight.

But he couldn’t have chosen a better person to tell, because she went straight to Melina, while Loki reclaimed his place with the two visiting Avengers.

“Shall we relocate?” He asked.

Melina strode out of the room, pulling Curtis along with her, and Loki let his eyes flick over to her, unable to feign surprise.

Romanoff looked after her, brow creasing, and Loki knew she must be wondering what had changed in her that she would now back down from a lifelong grudge.

Put that way, Loki was startled to find himself wondering if he would cease his fight for the throne, as little as a few years ago, for a similar cause. Not here, of course-- but if an Aesir child had been endangered, would he?

He was stricken to find that the answer was likely not.

That, though, was why he was able to manipulate these people. They were good, and he was not. He never would be, no matter how just his actions, no matter how he tried. Hadn’t the visions of other worlds shown him that, time and again?

“Well, I suppose we don’t need to, now.” That was Clint, as bemused as Romanoff. He shrugged, and his stomach rumbled. “When is lunch around here?”

Natasha shot him a fondly reproachful look. He spread his hands, and she sighed and shook her head.

“You needn’t stay.” Loki said, mood darkened by the discovery of how deep his monstrosity ran. “You could go and sup elsewhere, where the food isn’t portion controlled and enriched with minerals to turn it to grit against your teeth.”

Clint’s face shuttered, but even still a myriad of expressions flickered over it. Surprise, confusion, hurt, relief… such an odd little bird, Loki thought.

“Do you want us to leave?” Romanoff asked, ever blunt.

“Do you have any reason to wish to stay? You do not like me, you blame me for many things, rightfully so, and Barton, at least, seems to hate that I so much as go on breathing. You have done what you came to, delivered to me news of the still more lives I have claimed in my folly.” He was getting worked up now, intentionally playing it up to start, but the emotion welled beneath his words as he went on. “Thank you, truly, for finding them, for explaining as I cannot. But I do not require your continued presence to remind me of the monster I am, the monster I have always been.”  
He’d raised his voice, and he felt the tears pricking at his eyes. Good. He made a show of only now realizing the scene he was making. Dramatically, he heaved out a breath and drew into himself.  
“I think I would like to be alone now.” The words came out on a carrying whisper, so all listening could hear it.

Hopefully this little melt down would keep the attendants’ attention away from the other residents, while Marsha began to spread the word of their discovery.  
“We’ll see you back to your room, then, and go.” Romanoff said, gesturing at the nurse nearest them.

Barton’s mouth was clenched tightly shut, his left hand in a fist, and his jaw set.

They followed him back to his room, and he let the nurse push him, then close the door behind.

He rolled up to his bed and considered levering himself into it, but decided the effort was too great. Instead he crossed his arms atop the mattress and lay his head on them, trying to think and plan and instead managing only to berate himself.

He was still there when Grima returned.

He was pale and shaken looking, and without even thinking he turned himself to face him and opened his arms.

Grima knelt in front of him and put his head in his lap, finally allowing the shakes to take over him.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay-- Take your time, you don’t have to tell me what happened right away. Is there anything I can do?” Loki stroked his hair the way he would any sobbing child, and Grima began hyperventilating.

“They had a video, and I saw it, I heard-- I screamed. Bucky screamed. And I felt it, I remembered… I ran away from them.”

“Does the Captain know you’re here?” Loki asked, and Grima shook his head no.

“There’s more though.” He said, sitting up. And from the back of his jacket, he produced the sceptre that Thanos had given Loki to control with, to lead with.

Kneeling before him, Grima offered it up to Loki, much as the Einherjar had passed him Gungnir during the Odinsleep and Thor’s banishment, so long ago.

With shaking hands, Loki lifted the weapon, feeling the long lost thrum of magic pouring into him, through his palms and down his arms, filling him out as it went. This, too, was Uru, and soon he found himself able to stand.

he pushed the chair back, letting it clatter uselessly against the wall, and clutching the sceptre in one hand, he reached down to lift Grima’s chin, turning his face up to him.

“Why have you brought me this?” He asked, certain they had never discussed the metal, or its ability to draw on magics that lay latent.

“You should use it. On me. As a test. Unlock Bucky, if you can… so we can find out if you can use it on Cynthia, and give her back her childhood. Give her back who she is.” Grima’s eyes were shining and full of tears, and Loki realized instantly the implications of the request.

“If I do that, you will never again be trusted, maybe never again be free of me. Our minds will be connected, and no one will believe you act of your own free will.”

“Okay.” He said without hesitation, but Loki frowned and pressed on.

“The person that you are now may be lost into the memories of who you were. I cannot be sure it will work, because I always used my power to activate it before, and now I must rely on its powers.”

“I trust you, Loki.” Grima said.

The door opened and The Captain took in the scene, Loki standing there, Grima kneeling with his head thrown back, offering his chest to him. Loki and the sceptre poised to touch Grima, to bind the two of them together.

Loki saw The Captain’s eyes widen.

“Loki! No!” The surprise, the hurt on his face, made Loki's heart ache. Grima struggled to his feet, and Loki knew they were out of time.

He concentrated hard, gave the two other men a sad smile--

and disappeared.


	7. Comments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When this series was originally posted, it was as a single story. In breaking it up, I stood to lose many good conversations that were had in the comments, and I decided that was an unacceptable loss. 
> 
> Below you will find the original comments preserved in text form. These are not required reading for the story, so if you aren't someone who likes to read the whole comments section, please feel free to skip to the next work in the series. 
> 
> And to those who commented the first time around: Thank you all. It's been a joy revisiting your words!

**Chapter 1:**  
BigSciencyBrain Tue 06 May 2014 11:48PM IST  
Very interesting that Bucky was one of the people cleared to be around Loki. And I love the Rehab Home for Villains, that is awesome.  
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MostFacinorous Wed 07 May 2014 01:10AM IST  
Thank you! I have to admit, this was not where this story was originally going, but The Winter Soldier threw a nice wrench into... literally everything.   
Bucky, along with everyone else in that group, has either aspects of their personality or problems in the same vein as Loki's. My sister likes to underline issues I'm having by doing a mocking impression of me while yelling "THIS IS WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE". This is a slightly more productive version of that.  
  
Lena7142 Wed 07 May 2014 01:12AM IST  
If I had nothing to read about but the whiteness of the goddamn whale day in and day out I would probably be a bit cranky too...  
The whole therapy setting was an interesting change, though damn is Loki in need of it after everything. All the minor characters you've introduced so far have been beautifully described, from the doctor who removed the Uru to Loki's therapist. Your attention to even non-central characterizations adds a lovely depth to this fic. And it was very fun to see a gallery of lesser known comic characters introduced! AND BUCKY! (Wonder if his presence is going to have an impact on Steve's visits, or lack thereof...?)  
I am so very very hooked on this fic. I can't wait to see how things develop. :)  
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MostFacinorous Wed 07 May 2014 02:14AM IST  
I recently got my hands on a draft of the script for Heart of the Sea, the new Hemsworth movie, which is about the Essex, the ship that inspired Moby Dick, and 1. It's going to be great, 2. It gave me nightmares, and 3. I figured this would make for a good reference when it comes out a few months from now. ;)  
I really wanted to paint the contrast between Midgard and Asgard in their respective treatments of Loki, and therapy and physical rehabilitation felt like the natural progression for him.   
And thank you so much-- I love having a large cast of characters, and I love when they feel like they are real people.   
I'm so glad you're still with me!  
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Lena7142 Wed 07 May 2014 02:25AM IST  
Favorite characters, favorite ship, favorite tropes? Darlin', "I'm with you to the end of the line." ;) Seriously, though, I make a little excited noise every time I get an email update about a new chapter on this. And I hadn't caught the Heart of the Sea reference, but that's clever. The differences between Midgard and Asgard are definitely very stark in this. Though I imagine Steve is largely responsible.  
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MostFacinorous Wed 07 May 2014 05:57AM IST  
Yay! It's so exciting to be the person causing the happy noises that come from update alerts, for a change! Well I am happy to have you along for the ride, then!

Lilycxavier Wed 07 May 2014 01:25AM IST  
I wasn't expecting Loki to wind up in a therapeutic setting, this definitely looks interesting. Is Steve letting him settle in or just busy with a mission?  
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MostFacinorous Wed 07 May 2014 02:15AM IST  
No worries, Steve will be back in the next chapter, and all will be explained!   
I hope you enjoy where I take it, and thank you for reading so far!

  
Ingiburger_Johnsons Wed 07 May 2014 01:43AM IST  
I know I've said it time and time again, but WHY am I not allowed to leave more that one kudos on a story? We need more kudos in the world. And this story is killing me, in a good way. If I hadn't thunk this story interesting before this chapter, well... string me up and call me an Icelandic dried fish! When all these villains started appearing I was like: Oh boy! This is going to be interesting. But then Bucky/not Bucky was there and I left my sanity out on the street! I think I have a serious case of fangirling-too-much. I can hardly wait for the next chapter. So good job and please keep fighting. This is a story that deserves to be heard!  
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MostFacinorous Wed 07 May 2014 02:21AM IST  
Lawd if you could I get the feeling I would drown in them. Thank you so much! I'm so glad you're excited. I have some really fun plans for the rehab, and hopefully it will revive you from the killing it's currently doing.   
Hope it continues pleasing and exciting you!

Lzay_Niight Sun 06 Jul 2014 05:26AM IST  
Still, I wonder how exactly they plan on rehabilitating Loki. For one, I don't believe he is insane. Unstable is maybe a better word for it. And with his past, that isn't at all surprising. Also, I can't see him giving up lying. At All. So the matter of 'trust' will always probably have a question mark with him. Especially when he gets he S%^@ together.  
Being Mischievous is Loki.  
I just can only picture him eventually catching on and acting/lying his way out, while shoving all of his issues into a deep dark box. By the way this story is going (With nearly perfect characterization) Loki will not like being honestly vulnerable. So he seems more likely to feed them half truths while clinging on too the rest of the other half and guarding them viciously. Short of forcing his hand, or doing it involuntary like in this chapter, Loki will likely only let them see a glimpse of his true problems. Or at least try too. ^^"  
All I can say is that they have a battle ahead of them, and only bribery (His recovery) will have Loki playing along.  
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MostFacinorous Sun 06 Jul 2014 06:16AM IST  
True while that may be, I have a few cards yet up my sleeve. Stay tuned!  
  
Combination_NC Fri 06 Nov 2015 01:13AM GMT  
I understand where Loki's fear/worry is coming from, but seeing him wonder if Steve lied to him is still somewhat painful. And him referring to it as a bargain- while it does make sense that Loki would look at it that way, or at least want it to seem as if he is looking at it that way... It still feels sad, because I do not think Steve views it in that way. I think he feels responsible for Loki, yes, but I also think he genuinely does care on some level, because that is just such a Steve thing to do. I hope he does visit, soon; that would probably be the best for everyone at the halfway home because Loki does get a bit nasty when he is feeling insecure/abandoned. I am a bit concerned he is getting a bit neglected there in some ways, too, because I know in my country not making sure a patient gets help washing for that long would not be okay at all. But at least he has gotten to meet some of the other residents, now! I am very curious about how he and Bucky will mesh, especially.

  
Gleamingmermaid Mon 28 May 2018 11:53AM IST  
Yo I hate Rivera I can’t stand her

Nopennamesleft Sat 02 Feb 2019 07:11AM PST  
A great chapter. It really struck me when Loki said “I’m not a good man” as if that meant he must, in comparison, be an evil man. I think he was raised to feel that way. Thor was the Good Son, the Honorable Son, the Worthy Son. Loki was the Trickster and Liar. How you are viewed shapes who you become.  
All the aspects of a character are woven so well here. Loki is not evil, not innocent, both misunderstood and manipulative. He is a real person.  
  
**Chapter 2:**

BigSciencyBrain Sat 17 May 2014 11:35PM IST  
Poor Steve. :( He can't catch a break in this one.  
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MostFacinorous Sat 17 May 2014 11:49PM IST   
Everybody has bad days sometimes, I would imagine Captain America more than most. And no matter how much you try and contain it, bad days tend to leak. Fortunately, all bad days end... and I promise he gets that break. :)

 

Beryl 18 May 2014 12:43AM IST   
Oh, you are so my Loki fanfic fairy godmother! Many thanks to you. I have to admit, I am struggling a bit for a good read on Loki, you write his confusion and tangled emotions so well. I am expecting an evil plan somewhere in his pretty head, but he seems stripped bare of all of his confidence, pride, and ability as a strategist and tactician. I am so enjoying this ride you are commanding.  
Seeing Steve and the Winter Soldier interact makes me wonder if Loki is going to be the recipient of some of the love Steve held out for Bucky...  
This story gets better every chapter!  
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MostFacinorous Sun 18 May 2014 02:22AM IST   
There was an amazing amount of research I had to do in regards to walking rehabilitation... and even so, though I've had knee injuries since I've never experienced it nor had to go through it with anyone close to me, I am so afraid I'll get it wrong. But, there will be more of it, just the same. So if you see anything I do wrong-- and I'm relying on you as the person who wanted to see this-- please please don't hesitate to let me know!  
Thank you so much for sticking with it, and I hope you continue enjoying as it goes on!  
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Beryl Sun 18 May 2014 05:17PM IST   
It's a weird kink; I know. Thanks for not judging and for indulging me. It's not the same when I write it myself. I have written a series of stories with a paraplegic character (inspired by an ex-boyfriend who had spina bifida), so I know some about the mechanics of walking with braces. What you have is accurate, for a reciprocating gait orthosis, which is used to allow paraplegics to walk. The biggest factor for determining Loki's rehab process would be what your goal is for the outcome. Will he eventually be able to walk on his own without assistance? Is there nerve damage or is it the wasting of muscles from emaciation and lack of movement? Both? I think you are doing a fantastic job, but if you want any help with the research, I am happy to lend a hand.  
Thank you again!  
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MostFacinorous Sun 18 May 2014 10:17PM IST   
I try not to judge any kinks, and this doesn't even rank on the scale of things I would blink at, so don't worry about it!  
My thoughts for now are that it's a combination of the continual tearing and healing of his leg muscles during torture (magical healing, though, so I will probably play fast and loose with how the muscles have knitted back together to best benefit the story), combined with them then going unused for so long, plus malnutrition. And it's likely that he had at the very least a mild case of prepatellar bursitis on top of it. So not only does he have to build his muscles back up, but with the muscles being that weak, there would be a fear of mis- or dis-location, and that's just his legs. His side was cut open for surgery, the majority of those muscles having at least begun to heal by the magic of gungnir, and then he's spent a lot of time in odd positions, mainly kneeling or tied to things, and then stuck in beds, so I would imagine his back muscles are also not all they ought to be. Again, I am by no means a medical person, and I have very limited knowledge, mainly based around my own scoliosis and resultant weak knees. SO the braces he should be in are there not only for an even distribution of weight but also for tension and alignment, while still allowing him to use the muscles and build them up?   
As such I'm not entiiiiiiiirely sure I picked the right sorts of brace, but ideally I will have him to regain his ability to walk-- the pieces are all there and tentatively whole, it's just time and strengthening I want to work him through.  
And no, thanks to you for your interest, and for serving as a sounding board for me to bounce these sorts of things off of. I already have my psych advisor for the therapy, it only makes sense to ask someone who's spent more time thinking about this than I have!  
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Beryl Mon 19 May 2014 02:00AM IST   
I hadn't even thought about weakened back muscles. The brace you chose for him is the right one to provide the type of support and weight distribution he will need. Your research and approach seem spot-on.  
You have put so much thought into what happened to him. I am fascinated by how much of the story stays in the writer's head. Thanks for sharing some of that with me.  
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MostFacinorous Mon 19 May 2014 04:18AM IST   
I think it comes from something like ten years of writing fic, at least seven of which have been fraught with porn. If you can remember a character's hand placement and state of dress for the entirety of a scene, it's a natural extension to be able to keep details of their existence straight. (plus I have handy text files called "loki history" just for taking notes on what he's been through, and one called "stoki future" with ideas for where I want to go and how it ties into the intentional loose threads in the story so far.) And I'm always happy to share, or give advice on how my process works.  
But, thank you! And I really appreciate your backing up my research-- gives me a little more faith, going forward. :D

  
Ingiburger_Johnsons Sun 18 May 2014 12:47AM IST   
Hmm... Reading this, I do get the feeling that Steve is a bit of a clumsy person. Not the have-an-accident kind of clumsy. Just.... socially clumsy? But he's such a charismatic and optimistic character. Seeing him trying to make things right inspires me to try my best. And is it just me, or is Loki starting to develop a fondness for the captain? Well. I am sooooo looking forward to Loki meeting the young adults. It is going to be must amusing, me thinks ;Þ  
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MostFacinorous Sun 18 May 2014 03:06AM IST   
He's doing his best, but I believe that the firmer your footing is in your own life, the better suited you are to help others. And though Steve is trying, he can't pretend not to be a little at odds with his situation. But the fact that he never stops trying, and never gives up... that's what draws me to him, personally. So I am so glad that's how you read him in this. :) Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope it's as good as you expect, next chapter!

lilycxavier Sun 18 May 2014 01:30AM IST   
This story just keeps surprising me, and I just love it. I wonder as Loki and Steve start to have a growing friendship how Bucky will handle that. I love seeing Loki growing, Steve's reactions and just everything.  
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MostFacinorous Sun 18 May 2014 03:06AM IST   
I'm so glad to hear it, thanks! I hope the story keeps surprising you and growing on you even more as it goes along.

  
Lena7142 Sun 18 May 2014 11:09PM IST   
Awwww, Bucky. Loki sleeping with a book in his hands to hide the fact he's used to having his hands chained broke my heart a little. Also, damn is Loki a manipulative little shit, making Steve think he's being mistreated so Steve will come around more. Though, given it's Loki, sometimes it's hard to tell if he's deliberately misrepresenting a situation or if his own perception is legitimately distorted. As always, I love your characterizations and am looking forward to more. :)  
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MostFacinorous Sun 18 May 2014 11:43PM IST   
Sometimes the best lies are the ones that even the liar believes... and if you tell a lie enough, you can't help but believe it. Sometimes, I think even Loki loses sight of the difference.  
Thank you so much, and thanks for sticking with me still! I know you said you would, but I get a pleasant spine tingle when I see names I know popping up after every update. <3

  
Paola Mon 19 May 2014 08:19AM IST  
My last name Rivera .-. Btw, keep it up :)  
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MostFacinorous Mon 19 May 2014 09:44AM IST   
I hope that Talia is worthy of it! Thanks so much!  
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Paola Tue 20 May 2014 08:15AM IST  
Up till now she's nice :) I hope she manages to help Loki.

  
Combination_NC Fri 06 Nov 2015 02:08AM GMT   
Seeing Loki so affected by the loss of his years that he is showing Rivera his feelings without it seeming like he means to, not making it a part of a manipulation scheme, says so much about what a weight it must be on him. On top of all the horrific torture and humiliation, taking away his time? Odin, that is just overkill. Especially since for someone of Asgard (in upbringing if not blood), he is still so very young. The way he sleeps, holding the book as he does, makes him seem so fragile.

I enjoy how Loki occasionally gets a bit haughty here (even though Steve very much does not), because it feels like such a Loki thing to manage even in circumstances like these; he might have his moments of heartache, loneliness and fragility, but he was still brought up as a prince, and it shows. I am not sure how much he is intentionally manipulating Steve; I really do think there is room for improvement in how he has been treated so far (but then again I come from a country that is very big on all the healthcare), and I think Loki feels he is being mistreated on some levels, possibly because he is expecting them to treat him as less. He probably had not anticipated that his words would cause Steve to worry about Bucky, though. Not that I think understanding that would have caused Loki to not, because, well, Loki.  
There is something so precious about how he guards Steve as he sleep, though. Like he is returning one of so many favours, and trust. It makes it feel like Loki really does care about the good Captain, in his way, whether he knows it himself yet or not.

  
TedraKitty Mon 18 Jun 2018 06:09AM IST   
Kudos!

  
Nopennamesleft Sat 02 Feb 2019 05:10PM PST   
I enjoy all the touches of mental health in this. You have put a lot of thought into it. I look forward to how the relationship between Loki and Steve plays out.  
Bucky is also an engaging character. Lots of brooding there.

**Chapter 3:**

Ingiburger_Johnsons Fri 30 May 2014 01:03AM IST   
Ha ha :D I liked how you used music in the group session. Music tells a lot about a person and can evoke all kinds of feelings in us. It gave a nice insight into the characters. A certain kind of depth that a normal description wouldn't have. I would love to see the playlist <3  
And it seems like Loki is really getting impatient with his progress. I hope things will pick up. It was heartbreaking seeing him and "not Bucky" together. Two really broken souls that know no place in the world(s). Like always, I am very much looking forward to the next chapter. I always consider my time well spent after reading your story :D  
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MostFacinorous Fri 30 May 2014 04:00AM IST   
Sadly, you'll have to forgive my limited musical reach, but I put together a youtube playlist for ease of linking. And it is without a doubt the most eclectic selection of songs ever to meet a playlist of mine.   
http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iRtcWcmxQLXAtF0uRj8cagp5vkLz6cy  
I am so glad you like it, and I think I am going to very much enjoy writing Loki and "Not-Bucky"'s progress. :D

  
Lena7142 Fri 30 May 2014 02:01AM IST   
Ooooh, another great chapter! Hell, reading Loki complain, I found that *I* was getting hungry. I loved Bucky and Loki bonding with the piano, and their conversation. And it's probably helpful for Bucky to have at least one person *not* trying to force him to be, well, Bucky. Continuing to enjoy the appearances of comic characters. And I think I have a theory as to who Cynthia is...?  
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MostFacinorous Fri 30 May 2014 04:02AM IST   
You can blame my co-author and the creator of Talia for the piano duet bonding; it's a weakness of hers, and something I am only too happy to play into.   
But don't worry, Loki gets fed and more fun with Cynthia come next chapter. :D

  
lilycxavier Fri 30 May 2014 02:37AM IST   
I loved all of the interaction between Loki and Bucky. I hope they can help each other to heal and move forward. And I'm with Loki, get him some real food and some control over his existence there.  
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MostFacinorous Fri 30 May 2014 04:02AM IST   
I promise to feed the Loki, both literally and emotionally, next chapter. :)

  
IndigoIce Fri 30 May 2014 01:05PM IST   
thank-you for the great chapter! always look forward to them!  
I wonder if Loki will miss his children? having a calendar he might notice birthdays have gone by. despite not being able to raise them i always think he's the type for grand gifts.   
I do realize you're working with marvel movie vrs Loki, but I always assume Sleiphnir at least was a teenage pregnancy and I know he does exist in that universe, a lot of lies and 'magic is evil' probably went into sweeping that royal scandal under the rug. ^^; Loki as a mom is an intriguing issue to deal with, especially now that he can't ever bear children again in the form you've given him.  
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MostFacinorous Sat 31 May 2014 01:47AM IST   
To be honest, I tend to blend comics and movie Lokis together, with a dash of Norse mythology for flavoring. While there will be more of the Nordic featured in the fic, I tend to avoid Loki and his kids-- at least for now. Because I have a lot of complex and varied feelings regarding his and their treatment-- and because ultimately I don't plan on going with the Odin and Thor are douchebags forever trope in this story, and I feel like it would be hard to make them redeemable while addressing Loki's children. I may explore them later, but I would want to be able to give them my full attention, and right now I have too much going on in this one for more than a passing mention.  
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IndigoIce Mon 02 Jun 2014 05:56AM IST   
it just reminded me of another thing he'd have to deal with loosing, ontop of having his life shortened. Going from being dual sexed to only one could have it's issues, not to mention the shape shifting he just can't do anymore. Being stuck in one body when he could turn into a bird or a woman or anything else on a whim before has got to make him twitchy. in your story he's pretty much looking at a human life as a very long slow death sentence and making the best of it and i'm sort of waiting for the shock and last bit of hope to die when he comes to terms with there being no way out. he definitely has no hope of ever having a family as a human, and family is an important concept to the character. He can't bear children now, and if he fathered any he'd have no hope of getting to keep them with the way he's being treated. and mortal children, he'd not enjoy the thought of their lives being short too. that would be a break down and cry moment that would have his poor dr wondering what you're supposed to say to someone who lost not only their whole life and world and family, but also half their sexual identity. ^^;   
Very good luck to you with the many many issues that are Loki! ^^  
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MostFacinorous Mon 02 Jun 2014 06:50AM IST   
While I appreciate that's one way of writing Loki and one interpretation that is very popular fanon, there are also comic versions of Loki where it's emphatically stated that for example, Hela is not his daughter. Since I'm sort of mixing universes, and that facet of his history isn't overly relevant to the struggles I want to address here, I've not brought it in. Again, that's something I feel like I would need to spend more time researching and wrapping my head around, and is too prone to derailing my current plot. But, thank goodness, there are a lot of different ways to write Loki!

  
Beryl Fri 30 May 2014 01:39PM IST   
Another masterful chapter! Thank you! The time you take is obviously well-spent. Your characters stay in-character and have very clear voices of their own. Your attention to detail gives a reality to the story that makes me able to see it all in my head.  
I think the group therapy via music was well-done. Music choices do give great insight into the mind and soul. I love that Loki and the Soldier were able to bond over music. It gives them a common language. This fic is one of my all-time favorites.  
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MostFacinorous Sat 31 May 2014 01:48AM IST   
I am so flattered that you like it so much, and so glad that it works so well for you. I try and write so that everyone has something to take away with them, but I do know mileage varies, so I appreciate your vote of confidence more than words can say!

  
Maia2 Wed 11 Jun 2014 09:03PM IST   
What an interesting story. I really like how you explore both the psyche but also the culture of the resident alien here. I really like that you do not pull punches, at all. Loki's not a woobie and he keeps trying to play, to manipulate, even if it is sometimes for not so bad reasons. I like the relationship with Steve, especially in light of these manipulations and half-truths. It's interesting to see Steve's conflicts. How he realizes that he's falling right into Loki's hands at times, and knows he cannot trust him. But he also is who he is.   
I like the therapists, the other patients. Bucky is really interesting too. And I am very intrigued by Thor and Odin in this one. We've heard most of what happened through Loki, so whether on purpose or not, it's still not the full view.  
Thank you for sharing this quite interesting story. I'll look forward to more.  
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MostFacinorous Thu 12 Jun 2014 12:16AM IST   
Thank you for the kind words and the perspective! I'm glad you're enjoying. And don't worry-- I have every intention of bringing Thor and Odin's side of the story into play. I noticed someone had bookmarked this story with something to the effect of 'Thor and Odin are assholes' and since then I have had plans to prove that they don't see themselves that way. And that is my favorite thing about this story: Everyone has more than one version of themselves, and the friction of trying to justify the two perceptions-- their own and that of others-- is often the driving force of the narrative. I hope that the next chapter and those that follow continue to intrigue and interest you!

  
RenneMichaels Tue 07 Jul 2015 05:58AM IST   
As far as diet, perhaps they need to consider the idea that while 'human' for a certain value of the word... He might not be as human in that regard as they think.  
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MostFacinorous Tue 07 Jul 2015 07:49AM IST   
I really enjoy watching you make your way through the chapters! Thank you very much for reading. <3

  
Combination_NC Fri 06 Nov 2015 09:53AM GMT   
Aha, is that Loki's conciousness catching up to him I see? I think that he and Bucky has the potential to be either really bad for each other, or really good (and it is starting as good). The music scene with them is beautiful, and I like that Loki regards both of Bucky's hands as equal? That he does not see the metal one as being lesser, somehow.

  
latkes on Tue 19 Apr 2016 07:32PM IST   
The music thing is actually very close to things I did in group therapy as a teen, so good job.

  
Lov_pb Fri 12 May 2017 10:42PM IST   
Your story has reeled me in and I'm devouring the chapters, but I see you stopped updating after Chapter 20. I fear continuing ...

  
Nopennamesleft Sat 02 Feb 2019 08:24PM PST   
I never know where to start. Your chapters are packed with so many great moments.  
I just don’t feel like Loki is manipulating people in an evil sense. Yes, he wants certain things but he is weak and in the enemies camp, so to speak. He’s been beaten and abandoned by his family. He has to trust Steve and he doesn’t know have far that trust should extend.  
Looking forward to reading more.

  
**Chapter 4:**

Beryl Sun 29 Jun 2014 07:41PM IST   
You are good. I had begun to feel such sympathy for poor Loki, but now you have me wanting to know what his end game is here. He's too smart for his own good and seems to lack the common sense to keep himself out of trouble. Thank you for holding true to his inherent need for chaos. I love this story.  
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MostFacinorous Sun 29 Jun 2014 07:55PM IST   
I honestly don't think the two are mutually exclusive for him, and I think he hides behind the chaos sometimes. But thank you! I hope I continue not to disappoint!

  
Lena7142 Sun 29 Jun 2014 08:43PM IST   
I made a lot of happy little noises when I saw this updated! I love the dynamic between these three characters, and the way Loki is able to understand and identify with Bucky/Grima on a certain level that the others haven't succeeded with. Your characterizations are all riveting. Also, having binged on pizza last night after days of mostly eating toast and granola, I was ridiculously sick and can empathize with Loki to a painful degree. (Poor dear idiot.)  
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MostFacinorous Mon 30 Jun 2014 07:54AM IST   
Learn from yours and Loki's mistakes! Always break a fast or small foods diet sloooowly. :( Sorry for your pain, but glad you're enjoying! I can't wait to get the rest of these kids' wacky adventures out there!

  
lilycxavier Mon 30 Jun 2014 12:56AM IST   
I am so happy to see this update! I love Bucky, I mean Grima, reaching out to Loki and then to Steve. And Loki connecting as best he knows how, which is still with manipulation and scheming.  
Is Loki going to get out more? I'd like to see him having more interactions and being able to integrate.  
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MostFacinorous Mon 30 Jun 2014 07:55AM IST   
They are all trying, at least. Poor fools.  
Next chapter is all about Loki getting out more, and hanging out with some of his fellow residents. So at least you have that to look forward to!

  
Ingiburger_Johnsons Mon 30 Jun 2014 12:00PM IST   
Seeing Loki and Gríma bonding in some weird, outcast way is so adorable. But I'm starting to think that Loki isn't doing it because of some plot anymore. Why can't he just admit it to himself that he's human now with human feelings and wants. It's okay to want to be accepted and to have sentiments. It's also wonderful to see that Steve may have a chance at having some kind of relationship with "Bucky" again. I just hope Loki's tendency to have a mischievous plan doesn't ruin everything for him…  
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MostFacinorous Mon 30 Jun 2014 12:39PM IST   
I'm sure the sentiment is at least as scary for him as the humanity. When you're scared, you fall back on the things that are comfortable. And what would Loki be without a scheme? (also kudos to you for the accent mark you employed over that i. I elected not to use it out of sheer laziness-- I type too fast to stop for a special character that often.)  
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Ingiburger_Johnsons Mon 30 Jun 2014 11:23PM IST   
Oh. I wrote Gríma like that because that's how I usually write it. I have an Icelandic keyboard, you see.  
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MostFacinorous Mon 30 Jun 2014 11:36PM IST   
I love that you write it often enough to write it 'usually'. Is it a common name/ word there? I'm from Los Angeles, so not only do I have to jump through hoops to get "special characters", but the only exposure I have to Gríma as a name or word is through Lord of the Rings, and in my research for this chapter.  
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Ingiburger_Johnsons Tue 01 Jul 2014 01:10AM IST   
Aha. So that's where you got it from? Odin bless LOTR. But no. Gríma is not a common name in Iceland. But it's a common noun nevertheless. Gríma is a feminine word and therefore only used as a name for women. According to Þjóðskrá(the National Registry) 14 women bear the name. When I first saw the LOTR movies I thought Gríma was named Grímur. But I was apparently mistaken. But I don't think it's awkward as a name for a guy when used in a foreign text so I like it. It's a good choice of name for "Bucky". (Sorry for my babbling, I'm tired and excited :D)  
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MostFacinorous Tue 01 Jul 2014 01:32AM IST   
No not at all, don't apologize! Obviously I am equally excited.   
I actually went looking for an online old Norse dictionary and name list, and searched for "mask" "shadow" "echo" and other such fitting terms, and that was how Gríma popped up. I actually resisted it at first, because when I was a kid I had such a crush on Brad Dourif in the Lord of the Rings movies as Gríma, but then I reasoned that at least due to my familiarity with it as a name, it would take less acclimating to while writing. Thank you so much-- I was really worried in particular about this when I discovered it was a primarily female name! I feel a lot better about it now!  
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Ingiburger_Johnsons Tue 01 Jul 2014 06:50PM IST   
I was just searching for some good music when I stumbled upon a song called Á sprengisandi. Because of some weird reason I instantly thought of the chapter where Loki plays a song for the younger patients. The song is about people who are racing across the black sands of Sprengisandur. The sun is fading and night approaches. The time when ghosts roam the land and elf's saddle their moonlight horses. I feel that it's about being in a dark place and racing to get out, to get to a safe place. Just like it is for Loki in your story. Here is the link to the song if you'd like to hear it:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZ0rmsdQab4  
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MostFacinorous Wed 02 Jul 2014 07:32PM IST   
This song is really beautiful, I'm definitely adding it to my writing playlist! Thank you!

  
Maia2 Mon 30 Jun 2014 04:25PM IST   
Ah, good update. The first part, with the meal was good. I know he tends not to take lessons that do not agree with him at heart, but he kind of needed that. And I mean, I am glad he was obnoxious and petulant and *very* good at getting what he wanted (because that's who Loki is), but I am also glad it completely backfired on him, to show him he doesn't have all the answers, and and he isn't the center of the world, and people aren't out to get him and make him suffer. Loki acts very childish and spoilt at times, so it's good to both see it reflected and to see him thwarted, if only a bit. Especially 'cause he totally brought it on himself.  
Bucky/Grima was very interesting. I love that he found this person he can relate to. And while Loki is kind of selfish in his motivation, it is still good for Grima. And whether Loki admits it or not, even to himself, there's a lot of parallels between their situations, which is why Loki can put himself in Bucky's place and know what he needs. I just hope he'll at some point acknowledge this as more than just another ploy. But of course, our Loki is just not there yet.  
And awww, I know Steve's a bit jealous, but look! He's now talking to you, hon! *huggles Steve*  
Thanks for the update.  
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MostFacinorous Mon 30 Jun 2014 08:01PM IST   
I'm so glad! I was worried the update would disappoint, given how long it took me to get it out, but I just love the dynamics and power plays between the three of them, and I love that they all have parallels, and how easy it is to see them sympathizing with one another! Hope the next one works for you too!

  
neko Sat 12 Jul 2014 06:25PM IST  
Hey,I just wanted to tell you, that your fanfiction "I know no I" is truly amazing! I have found it a few months ago and ever since, I am checking almost every day for a new chapter (don't want to put pressure on you, though. Take your time and write this beautiful fic over a longer time).  
The plot is amazing and well written, the characters are, well, in-character and the language is wonderfully detailed!  
Keep rocking! :)  
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MostFacinorous Sat 12 Jul 2014 09:17PM IST   
Thank you so much! That is so incredibly sweet, and I appreciate it. New chapter is coming soon, just the same, but you rock, too!

  
I'm Done Tue 22 Jul 2014 09:46AM IST  
I was enjoying the fic but I love Steve and Bucky's friendship and Loki using it to manipulate Steve is unforgivable to me. I can't keep reading if this fic is endgame Steve/Loki. Sorry.  
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MostFacinorous Tue 22 Jul 2014 09:59AM IST   
I'm sorry this story is no longer to your taste, but unfortunately I won't be changing it because of your comment. I have very solid plans, you see, and I am at best half to 3/4 through with writing this fic.  
I believe all characters have to make mistakes and face the consequences of them, and that growth is one of the few ways for a character to truly earn their redemption.  
So while Loki/Steve is the end game to this, don't think for a moment that it will be smooth sailing and Loki getting his way, or that they're going to get together in the very next chapter and all will be forgotten and forgiven.  
If these manipulations are, as you say, unforgivable, then I thank you for reading as far as you have, and perhaps it is for the best that you stop now, because resolutions are sloppy things.

  
Combination_NC Fri 06 Nov 2015 10:37AM GMT   
He is such a spoiled, petulant prince at the start (and I say that with fondness), and I think it makes sense that he believes they are feeding him as they do out of ill will, because his tendency to think people are out to get him aside, Loki really has no idea how the human body works, does he? And that is essentially what he has, now. I find his and Gríma's interactions a tad bittersweet, because I think on several levels, Loki does identify with him; he knows what it is like to have been used as a thing (which adds an interesting dimension to the fact that Loki uses people, too, even if he does it in an emotional way as opposed to physical), and I think he has it in him to actually want to help for the sake of helping. But he does have an endgame in mind, which makes me worry for those around him, even though I also think this is not all about some endgame; Loki is not going to admit that to himself, though, as he is now.  
I hope it is not bothersome that I think out loud and speculate about his intentions and such, though! It is sort of my way to express that I am engaged in a story, but do let me know if it is annoying or somesuch! The story just makes me think a lot about the intentions and actions of these characters.

  
Bell_Witch Wed 31 Aug 2016 04:19AM IST   
I have to say that I am enjoying this fic very much. This isn't to say that the Tolkien geek in me wasn't... slightly appalled at the use of the name Gríma. (I have a One Ring that I never take off unless I have to for medical precedures.) I didn't know it was feminine, but the meaning behind it is so Tolkien that it makes sense--he didn't randomly name anything. I haven't yet seen 'Winter Soldier' (I know) so I'm not sure if I should be more bothered, or less so. It's just interesting to see Loki playing with someone who could so easily kill him. He just can't help himself.  
Now, on to Chapter 10.

  
TedraKitty Mon 18 Jun 2018 07:06AM IST   
I've enjoyed the fic so far and have been trying to remember to comment before I start the next chapter... But it's so interesting that sometimes I forget.. either way... Kudos are definitely in order and I wish they'd let me hit the button multiple times

  
Nopennamesleft Sat 02 Feb 2019 08:43PM PST   
What is going on in his twisty mind? Enjoyed the bonding between Bucky and Loki. Steve was perfect, happy and jealous combined.

  
**Chapter 5:**

Ingiburger_Johnsons Tue 22 Jul 2014 11:32AM IST   
This was a tough chapter to read. Almost skewered my heart. We are definitely seeing some major changes in Loki but he still tries to lie to himself. He obviously doesn't allow himself real feelings. And Gríma is starting to be suuuuuper adorable! But it is quite the mystery where this is all going with him.... I can hardly wait for the next chapter, like always :D  
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MostFacinorous Tue 22 Jul 2014 08:32PM IST   
Real feelings make you weak, don't you know! And Loki could hardly stand to be weaker than he is right now.  
Fortunately I think Grima understands that all too well, and I think that will help.  
Thank you again, as ever, and I hope you keep enjoying!

  
Beryl Tue 22 Jul 2014 12:56PM IST   
Oh, this is so complex. I love it. You do a most excellent job of creating depth in your characters. I know the eventual pairing is Loki and Steve, but it seems as if we are going to go through some really bumpy stretches of road to get there. This chapter begins to deconstruct the walls Steve has built around his own sexual identity... Thank you for giving them so much to chew on and work with.  
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MostFacinorous Tue 22 Jul 2014 08:24PM IST   
Thank you!   
I hope the complexity of character helps them to feel as real as possible. And as loathe as I am to use the word love in relation to most of the ships I write, you don't get anywhere near it without first having trust between the characters. It takes a lot to build that up. I just hope the outcome is worth the wait!

  
Maia2 Tue 22 Jul 2014 01:16PM IST   
Oh, I enjoy this story so much. Loki is so very, very twisted. And poor doc has her work cut out for her. Because that's a lot of years of lying, scheming, thinking it's the only way, to get through. It's lots of years of manipulating and only thinking of himself to get through. And I like very much that while Loki's slowly starting to think of consequences and care about other people, he still is manipulating (or trying to) everyone around him. And I love that the line is getting blurry on how much is manipulation and how much is real. And I also love that Steve is such a good guy, that even when he falls for the manipulations, that's not what's important. What's important is he still cares and takes these things to heart and tries to do better. So yes, he's reacting as Loki wants him to, but not blindly, he thinks about things and tries to do what's best for both Loki and Grima.  
Thanks for the update.  
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MostFacinorous Tue 22 Jul 2014 08:14PM IST   
Manipulation is a tool for Loki, and it's one of the few left to him. He may be in a place designed to make him feel powerless, but to him, regaining his own control over his situation is as much a part of his healing process as relearning how to walk is. What he did not expect was that he would grow sympathy in the meantime. It's really throwing off his groove.  
Steve, on the other hand, can only work with what he has, what he knows. He's an incredibly skilled tactician, so he can see and recognize the skill behind Loki's plays. I know I compare Loki and Rivera's interactions to a game of chess, but that is no less true for Steve and Loki. And I think if you ever put them head to head, Loki would cheat and Steve would still win.  
Thank you so much for reading and your really perceptive reviews! I appreciate it!

  
Lilycxavier Tue 22 Jul 2014 02:05PM IST   
This was a roller coaster of a chapter. Grima is definitely starting to make steps forward while it seems like Loki is taking steps back. But I do think while it's hard for Loki to let go of the lying and manipulating, he's not really being given any tools to replace them with. He also has no reason to believe that anyone would be there for him without ulterior motives, he's never had that experience in his past. And I think with the exception of Grima, even those who are supposed to be supportive of him like Steve and Dr. Rivera, it's always with a certain amount of suspicion and a lack of trust. How can Loki be expected to learn to trust if that trust isn't ever accorded to him?  
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MostFacinorous Tue 22 Jul 2014 08:00PM IST   
Right on the head. As much as this story is about a redemption for Loki, the people around him have a lot of growth to do as well.  
I really appreciate your comments, by the way. They give me insight into things I hadn't considered fully, or in that way. Thank you!  
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lilycxavier Tue 22 Jul 2014 11:31PM IST   
Thank you. This story is one of my favorites. It's so well-written, and it always manages to surprise me. Even though there's a wait between chapters, I'm always so happy to see a notification of another chapter.  
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MostFacinorous Wed 23 Jul 2014 01:03AM IST   
I'm so glad! Hope it continues to surprise and delight as we go along!

  
Emily Tue 22 Jul 2014 02:40PM IST  
Each chapter is worth the wait. I am loving this story so much. Loki & Steve are a favorite ship of mine...................KISS BABIES!  
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MostFacinorous Tue 22 Jul 2014 07:55PM IST   
It will be a little more wait for that, I'm afraid... but I'm hoping that will be worth it too! Thanks so much for reading!

  
BigSciencyBrain Wed 23 Jul 2014 01:22AM IST   
Every chapter, I cringe when I click on it because I know I'm going to want to wring Loki's neck. But by the end, I'm always completely sucked in and then I have to go think until my brain hurts about all the layers, all the subtext, all the little hidden bits you've tucked away into every single character.  
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MostFacinorous Wed 23 Jul 2014 07:42AM IST   
He is very neck-wringable. But a lot of that, I think, is a defense mechanism, and one that he relies a lot upon right now. As he is held accountable for his neck-wring-worthy actions, he will learn and grow from them... and I think a lot of it really is just an afterthought. He's so used to being bad, if he does something good he has to justify it selfishly.  
I appreciate that you put so much thought into understanding this story though; I really admire your writing as well!

  
Lena7142 Thu 24 Jul 2014 12:04AM IST   
“You don’t have to answer me now, or ever, if you don’t want. But I want you to think about why you always feel the need to justify caring or doing something good with selfish motives. I don’t think they’re actually motives, are they? More like afterthoughts. Think about why you need them, why you can’t just accept that you are doing something kind for the sake of it.”  
I almost cheered at this line.  
I am so emotionally invested in this fic; in Loki, and Steve, and Bucky, and even finding out what the hell is up with Cynthia (Sin?). The characterizations are complex and believable but nothing is so predictable that something doesn't fail to surprise me in every chapter.  
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MostFacinorous Sun 27 Jul 2014 06:41PM IST   
I'm glad I still manage to surprise, and that you're in it for the plot as well as the characters. We're in the thick of it now, and there will be answers to some of your questions next chapter!

  
animatedpassions Tue 23 Sep 2014 11:09PM IST   
Ugh! I don't like her! What's her problem!? I think she just mad that she didn't get to see them do it if they did do it bcuz I know I would (but I am pervert so there). ANYWAY the story got me hooked! So many feels. Love the characters your writing is superb! I cant focus on anything else but this! ;)

  
Combination_NC Fri 06 Nov 2015 01:58PM GMT   
Oh my goodness, I have so many feelings about this chapter, I absolutely adore it. The image of Gríma coming to Loki in the dark for support is... it makes me feel hopeful, for the two of them. I think Loki was being completely honest with him in the dark; I really do not think anything about that night was intentionally manipulative. It felt too real, too raw. And this: He painted pictures in the empty air between them of a world gone by, and people neither of them had ever known. The hours slunk away like an animal ashamed, taking the darkness along like a tail tucked between its legs is just.. absolutely beautiful. Those sentences moved my heart.  
And I understand why the staff questioned Loki about it when they found Gríma with him in the morning (and I wonder what talk they gave Gríma after, as well), but it still saddens me, because I do not think Loki had had any such thoughts in regards to him. He lashes out at his doctor, and I think he is rather putting on a show with what he says about sleeping with him; just a show of defiance. I like how he was just not defensive about the closeness, but about the story he told, that he felt it was not for her to hear, because it seems a bit... protective, almost? Protective of Gríma and his stories and lives and privacy. The way he plays up his power at the birthday party, implying that he is still worshipped- I do not think that is how he sees him, as someone who worships him. I think he really is his friend. And, well, it is absolutely true that Loki would still be worshipped; where I come from, the Old Ways are still very much alive, and he is still the chosen deity to some.  
This line during the party: He could feel the helpless sorrow at his short years creeping in again made my heart ache, for him and in general. That is rather how I feel on my birthdays, until I get my triple chocolate mousse cake. Perhaps things will get better for him once he can eat a wider variety of things and discover chocolate and its emotionally restorative powers.  
And, well, he is still manipulating people, but not, I think, as much as he tells himself he is. I think his doctor really nailed it with her comment of motives and justifications. Him thinking of how those he controlled with the sceptre (and oh how my heart ached for the two of them when Gríma asked if it could restore his memories, and oh goodness Steve told him about it) and wanting to... do something? I hope it was a genuine wish, and not just a step, a part of his plan (whatever that plan is, if he even knows it himself). I would like to think that at very least in part it is, because I cannot imagine he would want to inflict the torture he endured on others, even by a mind link.  
I think I regard Loki in a similar way to Steve when it comes to trusting his motivations; “More than I should and less than I want to". And I absolutely love that, how good he is at what he does, that I wonder and hope but cannot be sure what he really has in mind. This is fantastic.

Edit to add: and I think that Loki is actually genuinely afraid he might be used as a substitute? He is absolutely milking it for all that it is worth to gain from it what he can, but I do think the fear itself is a genuine one.

Chapter 6:

ynath esrith Sat 16 Aug 2014 12:47AM IST  
I never trusted that psychologist. Not even a little bit. Is she Hydra? Or is SHIELD just that evil sans Hydra? They seemed very keen on torturing people entirely on their own bat ("The Avengers"). Plus, Fury weaponized the Tesseract. Also I harbor deep distrust of shadowy organizations with no oversight, run by people who think that nuking a major city constitutes acceptable losses.  
I don't have a clue what Loki might be up to at this point. I'd swear he didn't know Grima would bring back the scepter, though. I was starting to think he actually cared about the plight of the children at NEST so will be very disappointed if he uses this opportunity simply to escape. Not that I blame him for wanting to escape; anyone would, in his situation. AND wreak a bit of well-earned revenge while they were at it. But I'd rather he took down this probable NEST of vipers, first and THEN escaped, laughing in Asgard's face.  
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MostFacinorous Sat 16 Aug 2014 08:12AM IST   
All of your questions will of course be answered in due time. But trusting your gut is a good way to go. Thank you so much for reading as this goes along!

  
BigSciencyBrain Sat 16 Aug 2014 02:19AM IST   
Oh man...I did not see any of that coming! I am going to be biting my nails waiting for the rest. And poor Bucky, bring the sceptre and wanting to be a guinea pig so he can help someone else. *sniff*  
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MostFacinorous Sat 16 Aug 2014 08:13AM IST   
I do aim to keep my readers on their toes-- and the edges of their seats! And you know, starting this, I did not have a shit to give for Bucky. He has grown into such a character for me, though. Whoops.

  
Lilycxavier Sat 16 Aug 2014 03:31AM IST   
Whoa, I didn't see that ending coming. How did Grima know where to find the scepter? I can't say I'm surprised though about Dr. Rivera. And really it is a SHIELD facility, none of this is really surprising.  
The hiatus will end soon, right?  
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MostFacinorous Sat 16 Aug 2014 08:16AM IST   
Don't worry; I plan to address it. (I actually already have, in the beginning of the next chapter.)  
The "hiatus" isn't me not writing, it's me writing ALL OF IT to unleash at once. I can't say now how long it will take me to finish, but I am writing and working on it every day. I am going to make it as soon as possible, though. I just need to get it all out at once. :)  
Thank you again for reading!

  
Lena7142 Sat 16 Aug 2014 05:19AM IST   
*SCREAMING*  
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MostFacinorous Sat 16 Aug 2014 08:16AM IST   
*SCREAMING WITH YOU*  
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Lena7142 Sat 16 Aug 2014 05:20AM IST   
(Have a hunch that whatever is being locked away in Cynthia's mind should probably stay that way and oh shit oh shit oh shit that ending gaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh)  
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MostFacinorous Sat 16 Aug 2014 08:16AM IST   
*Evil Laughter*

  
Maia2 Sat 16 Aug 2014 05:21PM IST   
Ah, long chapter. I love the relationship between Loki and Grima. And while I know Loki is at the same time trying to manipulate both Grima and the Cap through it, I know he genuinely feels Grima is his friend. (in a very possessive and twisted Loki way). I love that all of his manipulations lately take the guise of letting his genuine feelings show. It might not be the very best situation, but at least it gives what he feels a way out.   
I am also glad he *is* feeling for the people that he killed, for those who died because of him. Hurts. But it's good. I wanted to hug him when he was thinking what a monster he was, because, yes, he did horrible things, but I still want to hug him and tell him he is not.  
So staging a coup at NEST, huh? Should be interesting. I wonder what exactly is going on.   
And now we have a Loki on the loose with magic at his fingertips. (loved that he thought of Bucky, that he hesitated before using the staff on him)  
Thanks for sharing.  
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MostFacinorous Sun 17 Aug 2014 10:26AM IST   
I love that you're so optimistic for Loki being by and large leaning toward good. I expect to see a polarizing formation of two camps on this. Hope the wrap up will be a satisfactory one for you.

  
Lily Sat 16 Aug 2014 09:55PM IST  
I am too incoherent to write anything useful, but I experienced my full range of emotions kind of like when you watch a bollywood movie, I don't even get this kind of reaction from real movies like wtf.  
Loki you sly conniving bastard he is the luckiest asshole everything just falls into his lap literally. Questions... I have a lot of them, is he coming back for Bucky ? Will he do the right thing? Is Dr Rivera hydra or nah ? This was amazing as always xxx  
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MostFacinorous Sun 17 Aug 2014 10:27AM IST   
LOL, I love your questions! And is it luck, skill, or some combination thereof? This answer and more in the thrilling (I hope) conclusion of I Know No I!

  
Latibule_Oceans Sat 16 Aug 2014 11:18PM IST   
Oh god. He disappeared. I'm freaking out. Like, has he been teleported by the septre or did he have his magic or, omg, I just don't know. I didn't see it coming and it was fantastic.  
I do know that I want Loki to somehow fix this all and find his place on Midgard but I can't even hope it's going to be that simple. Loving the angst and the characterisations and dialogue.  
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MostFacinorous Sun 17 Aug 2014 10:28AM IST   
Thank you so much! I hope the wrap up will be everything you want and nothing you expect!

  
Mandarino Mon 18 Aug 2014 08:11AM IST   
What a cliffhanger!   
Your Loki has changed a lot since the beginning of the story. I am looking forward yout next update.  
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MostFacinorous Mon 18 Aug 2014 06:58PM IST   
I'd apologize about the cliffhanger, but I definitely like it that way. I hope the update is everything you hope for!

  
Ingiburger_Johnsons Mon 08 Sep 2014 02:19PM IST   
This chapter made me realize all over again how much I love this story. Every character is so strong and clearly defined, and while the plot twist may seem very subtle they are alway so fresh and surprising. The main characters' feelings are described in so much detail it's hard to fathom how one would think of such things. And I guess that is what draws me to this story. Your, the author's, amazing ability to put you in the character's shoes. And let's not for get the occasional burst of humor. It's brilliant!  
It saddens me to know that the story is ending, but all good things must come to an end sometime. It's been an amazing journey. I would like to thank you for sharing this wonderful tale with us all. Thank you.  
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MostFacinorous Tue 09 Sep 2014 02:53AM IST   
And thank YOU for reading and giving me your views and opinions to muse on as I write, each and every chapter. It has been an utter delight writing this and getting to know not only the characters, but some of my readers, too, yourself included.   
The good news is as I work on the final portion, it keeps growing longer. It won't be a small update, and I hope it wraps everything up in a way you'll find fulfilling and satisfying!

  
animatedpassions Wed 24 Sep 2014 04:38AM IST   
What? What? What?! ¢-'$&-%€÷¢^=©¢€[¢•$%:(348:'%+;%&++-%%"+!!!!!!!! (Bangs head on laptop Until my head explodes!)  
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MostFacinorous Wed 24 Sep 2014 08:55AM IST   
Did you spend 6+ hours reading this story? There is a six hour difference between your two comments, and I am going to pretend that is the case because I am so flattered. I love that I've reduced you to this-- but don't worry! More is coming! I am working on it everyday!  
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Animatedpassions Wed 24 Sep 2014 04:10PM IST   
Yes, yes I did! I meant it when I said I was hooked (translates to: I'll keep reading until there is no more updated or my heart explodes with feels, which happens often on such good long stories like yours!) So yes, I was reading your story all of yesterday and the early morning hours of before, because I have no life and the excitement of my day is when someone updates their story. Sue me, I plead guilty! I have no shame. :P  
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MostFacinorous Wed 24 Sep 2014 07:16PM IST   
I will not at all sue you, or ever make you guilty about that-- I do much the same thing! And I meant it: Totally flattered that you find this story worth reading that way!

  
Combination_NC Fri 06 Nov 2015 04:08PM GMT   
What wait no what [insert incoherent screaming here]

Oh Loki you better be taking that thing somewhere useful and non-evil you better do a good thing with this, he had such a good thing going, relatively speaking, Loki why  
This turned into a massive roller-coaster of emotions here. What. What. I suppose now my feeling that Rivera was sometimes unnecessarily needling Loki seems more justified? I. What. Whaaaat.  
Okay so there was a lot of things in this chapter that gave me many different feelings before the end of it broke my brain. Like in the beginning where Loki is delighted that he is making life more difficult for Rivera? It reminded me of that time earlier when he purposefully drove his chair over the toe of one of the attendants. It amuses me when he takes delight in these tiny little basically asshole things, because it feels like, hah, the humans have not domesticated him. It is just so petty of him, these tiny little things, and I like that he is not so broken that he has lost his innate drive for low-key jerkish things. It is just one of those things that feels so... Loki.  
I was so amused when Clint got referred to as "the scowly arrow guy". And Loki acknowledging Natasha as he did, and her noticing it. (Also, I like how Natasha is the most together person on their little roadtrip to NEST. I often find myself wondering what Natasha is thinking, being surrounded by the other Avengers, because she is so together and competent and then she has to work with Tony. But anyway!)  
There were a lot of lines in this that made many feelings happen: "A smile that made him look as though he were putting on a brave face. They came so easily after long centuries of practice, but for the first time, he tasted the lie in his mouth as he did." "His readings of people, it seemed, had not gone as soft as his heart had tried to." "They are, really, all slave to the universal fear for the future." So many feelings.  
I am a little scared to click to see the next chapter because Loki was really going somewhere with the trust and companionship and oh whyyy *slams the Next Chapter button*

 


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